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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24065032">You're in front of me, always in my sight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mothwood/pseuds/Mothwood'>Mothwood</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plouton/pseuds/Plouton'>Plouton</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bleach</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Bad Flirting, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Chapter 2 Tags:, Chapter 3 tags:, Character Death, Competitive assholes but one of them is flirting and the other is oblivious, Eating Souls, Fluff, Hollow Biology, Hollow instincts, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Aizen Sosuke, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, PTSD, Past Abuse, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Suggestive Themes, Trans Ichigo, Trans Male Character, Traumatic Themes, Violence, dead dove, discussions of trauma, suggestive content, theres no therapy in hueco mundo, were so sorry we hurt our boys</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:14:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>61,802</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24065032</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mothwood/pseuds/Mothwood, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plouton/pseuds/Plouton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"What?!" He hisses, trying to keep the volume low enough the neighbours won't come out to stare at him. It's happened before. He still feels deep shame when he thinks of it. Not a high point in his life, yelling at ghosts. </p>
<p>The bane of his existence grins widely, the same feral edge to it that made Ichigo weak in the knees right before Grimmjow tried to kill his best friend. </p>
<p>Ugh; stupid, handsome bastard. </p>
<p>"Kurosaki, you can't just leave without telling me. I gotta know."</p>
<p>"I don't want to fuck you, Grimmjow."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>83</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>362</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Moth and I want to say 'sorry' in advance. This is not a cute story.</p>
<p>(It's a little cute. There's some real cute parts I promise.)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"-my standards are higher than most hollows, is what I'm getting at here."</p>
<p>Ichigo rolls his eyes, glances around himself- quick and discreet, and then speaks without turning to look at his tag-along, <em> unwanted </em> conversation buddy, gazing resolutely forward as he walks. </p>
<p>"<em>What </em>standards, Grimmjow, you've literally talked about how you'd have fucked <em>most</em> <em>of the espada</em> if you'd thought you would have survived it. What does that even mean?" </p>
<p>Grimmjow gives him a withering look. "My standards <em>are</em> high! I don't wanna be eaten during or after sex, that's pretty damn <em>high</em> <em>standards</em> for a hollow, Kurosaki."</p>
<p>Ichigo splutters at that, looks to the right and up where Grimmjow hovers- bastard can never come down to eye level- before he remembers himself and speeds up a little, marching down the pavement, fingers curling and tugging at the strap to his schoolbag.  </p>
<p>"<em> Eaten?! </em>" </p>
<p>"Yeah, it's what happens when hollows fuck. Mostly. Weaker one gets eaten. Or if you don't pay attention. Everything's a power struggle in Hueco Mundo."</p>
<p>"That's gross and definitely makes things easier for me, so, thanks for sharing I guess. I don't want to be cannibalised."</p>
<p>Ichigo shakes his head slightly, then awkwardly smiles at a couple and their child crossing the road--he missed them, damn it, and the mother herds the kid further away from him, both parents throwing him equal parts concerned and angry glances. </p>
<p>Whoops. It's not like half of the city doesn't think he's crazy, though, so. Too late for regrets. </p>
<p>"Easier?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, easier. Means I don't have to try as hard to- ignore the- abs. And the <em> arms</em>. The- <em> definitely </em> the jawline. You know. You're hot."</p>
<p>Grimmjow is silent, for a bit, and Ichigo is grateful; it's hard to get back in the swing of things after so long away, and Kon tanked his reputation at school pretty handily; class isn't as pleasant as it used to be for him. </p>
<p>Damn pervert lion-</p>
<p>"Hollows run cold, Kurosaki. Are you a fucking idiot, you have--abs and shit too. What does that even <em> mean </em>?" </p>
<p>Ichigo stumbles, a bit, and his brow furrows as he glances up at the espada (former, <em> former, </em>Aizen and his caste system are beyond dust by now) in confusion. </p>
<p>"You know, like, attraction. Being physically attractive. Not literal temperature. It's- your physical qualities are- uh… In animalistic terms, good sexual partner material. Appealing."</p>
<p>"Wait, wait. Hold up, Kurosaki, do you want to <em> fuck me </em>?" </p>
<p>Ichigo nearly spits blood at that, he bites his tongue so hard, and without really thinking about it he's taking off in a dead sprint. </p>
<p>Avoidance tactics--the middle school counsellor he used to see for fighting during class would be <em> so </em> disappointed in him. </p>
<p>He pumps a bit of spiritual energy into his legs when he hears a distant <em> Kurosaki! </em>and probably breaks a few pedestrian crossing rules in the mad dash home, but in the end he darts inside his house after an awkward fumble of the keys, and- no Isshin to greet him. </p>
<p>He frowns, toes off his shoes in the footwell and steps into the kitchen, immediately spotting the note on the fridge with the little gudetama magnet Yuzu loves so much. </p>
<p><em> 'Afterschool activity for Karin involving soccer practice, Dad and I are going to the shops. We're going to pick her up and come home around 7, see you then Ichi-nii! </em>' </p>
<p>Her handwriting somehow conveys all the sweetness of her voice, (she even put in a heart on the exclamation mark) and he smiles and takes it down, puts it on the kitchen counter and heads up to his room. </p>
<p>He unpacks his school bag and sets out the English book, then his homework sheet, spins the chair and sits down at his desk, ready to study-</p>
<p>Grimmjow flares his reiatsu from the yard. </p>
<p>Ichigo's forehead meets the desk with a dull <em> thud </em> and the heavy, foreboding sense that this is going to give him a truly massive headache. </p>
<p>He stays there for a sweet, blissful, Grimmjow-less moment, and then the hollow yells at him; "I know you're in there Kurosaki! Don't be a fucking coward!" </p>
<p>Well. He can't <em> not </em> go tell him to fuck off, now, he's been <em> challenged</em>. Rukia would probably roll her eyes so hard at him they'd fall out of her skull. </p>
<p>He kneels on the bed and slides the window up aggressively, and then has to crane his neck upwards to glare at the worst person he's had the displeasure of socialising with after several near-death fights (standing in the air, of course). That's saying something, Kenpachi is <em> terrible </em> company. </p>
<p>"What?!" He hisses, trying to keep the volume low enough the neighbours won't come out to stare at him. It's happened before. He still feels deep shame when he thinks of it. Not a high point in his life, yelling at ghosts. </p>
<p>The <em> bane of his existence </em> grins widely, the same feral edge to it that made Ichigo weak in the knees right before Grimmjow tried to <em> kill </em> his best friend. </p>
<p>Ugh; stupid, handsome <em> bastard</em>. </p>
<p>"Kurosaki, you can't just leave without telling me. I gotta know."</p>
<p>"I <em> don't </em>want to fuck you, Grimmjow." It's a little bit of a lie. </p>
<p>"Did I ruin it by saying that I don't wanna sleep with people who'll try and eat me? 'Cause I'll make an exception for you. But Pantera's gotta be in the bed with us so I can stab you when you try to rip out my throat. I can lower my standards."</p>
<p>Ichigo splutters, and he can just <em> feel </em> his cheeks going a bright red, a trait he <em> unfortunately </em> shares with his father and Karin, and grabs the edge of the window. </p>
<p>"I'm not a hollow! I dont- I don't want to eat you or anyone! I don't eat people!" </p>
<p>Grimmjow rolls his shoulders, that backwards slouch that really shouldn't scream <em> appealing, </em>should just blare 'warning, I'm a psychotic murderer with an ego the size of Jupiter' but is somehow sexy, and offers a nod. </p>
<p>"Okay. Okay- I wanna eat <em> you, </em>but just a little bit. I won't do it while you're cumming, swear." </p>
<p>Ichigo stares, his face getting warmer still, this time with rage. He slides the window closed abruptly and then yanks the blind down after it, but not before blatantly displaying a middle finger at Grimmjow from behind the glass. </p>
<p>He stands there for a second, and pats his cheeks, sighing when the heat goes away, and turns to sit back at his desk, flicking on the lamp now that the room is dim without the natural light through the windowpane. </p>
<p>Grimmjow steps through his wall and Ichigo can't quite contain the shriek that leaves his throat.</p>
<p>"Come on, you <em> totally </em> wanna fuck." Grimmjow needles, Ichigo’s overwhelmingly entertaining reactions driving him onwards.</p>
<p>Ichigo slaps his hands on the back of his desk chair, grip white knuckled in embarrassment and fury.  "Get out of my room!" </p>
<p>"No, c'mon, tell me already, I'll know if you lie."</p>
<p>He grits his teeth. "I'm going to beat the shit out of you, Grimmjow, <em> get out of my room! </em>" </p>
<p>A dull, distant voice, dual-layered and smug, whispers <em> 'oh, so, you want foreplay? He'll love that, he's hollow, fighting and fucking are only one step to the side of each other' </em>and he falters slightly. </p>
<p>Grimmjow crosses his arms, a similar sort of smugness entering his expression and Ichigo balks. "So, no eating, which means--what, you find me attractive by shinigami standards? Sounds weird."</p>
<p>He really shouldn't encourage this conversation but he's just- Grimmjow is so <em> good </em> at riling him up. All he has to do is smirk and Ichigo is immediately <em> infuriated</em>. (And a little bit horny. It's the sharp teeth, it <em> gets him </em> and it's probably some weird thing leftover from trauma or something but <em> still </em> it <em> gets him</em>.)</p>
<p>"No! Human standards, <em> human. </em> Why am I even talking about this with you-" </p>
<p>"I didn't know humans ate each other after sex."</p>
<p>"They <em> don't! </em>" </p>
<p>Grimmjow squints, a little, a mix between confused and pissed, (pissed is his default, though, so it's not exactly surprising) and shrugs one shoulder, glances about the room. </p>
<p>"What do my abs have to do with human attraction anyway? I get the whole--strength thing, that's obvious, <em> anyone </em> would be attracted to my power-" he flashes a grin, oozing self centred pride, and Ichigo rolls his eyes painfully, "-but I don't even <em> have </em> half my abdomen." </p>
<p>He uncrosses his arms and starts pulling off the stupid half-crop jacket he wears that doesn't offer any real modesty (but still helps Ichigo avoid ogling him more than he already does) and Ichigo yelps. </p>
<p>"No- put that back on! Don't - don't you dare take it off- <em> Grimmjow! </em>" </p>
<p>It's too late, the jacket is discarded to the side and he motions to his hollow hole, <em> like the jacket even fucking covered that in the first place, </em>expectantly. </p>
<p>"Look, humans are attracted to healthy bodies; it's perfectly natural- like you don't <em> know </em> you're Adonis-level. Beyond that, probably, you fucker. Put your jacket back <em> on. </em>"</p>
<p>"The fuck is Adonis? And don't be so weird. It's not like you haven't seen me naked."</p>
<p>Ichigo's brain short circuits, for a second, terrifying blankness before <em> oh my god, what? When. I couldn't forget that. It'd be spank bank material for months. </em> And then <em> wait. Wait. No way- </em></p>
<p>"When the fuck were you naked in front of me?!" He shrieks, and his face is probably steaming at this point, his cheeks feel so hot. </p>
<p>"Uh, when we fought in Las Noches. Resurreccion. You saw me in just my armor."</p>
<p>His whirling thoughts stutter and halt, for a moment, one part mortification he fought Grimmjow <em> technically naked </em> and the other utterly relieved because <em> that's not naked</em>. </p>
<p>"You weren't naked, Grimmjow. But as far as intimidation tactics go, being unnaturally hot is an effective one, you're terrifying. Is that what you wanted to hear? Will you <em> go away </em> now?" </p>
<p>“Aww, mighty kind of you,” the arrancar bats his eyelashes mockingly. </p>
<p>Ichigo sighs, lifts his hands and rubs at his temples, closes his eyes. The embarrassment is fading a bit, now, and his facial temperature is going down slowly but surely as he adjusts to the- absolute <em> roller-coaster </em> this has been. </p>
<p>'<em>You know,' </em> a little voice that isn't Shiro and isn't Zangetsu whispers, sounds more like himself than anything he's heard lately, <em> 'if you just tell him you want to fuck him it might lead to a 'happy ending' for us. Very happy. You know those sharp teeth would leave the nicest bite marks. You could press your fingers into them for days after and still get sharp little pains to make you wet--' </em></p>
<p>Grimmjow's <em> incredibly cold </em> hands being shoved up his shirt onto his bare stomach smothers the tiny, <em> dangerous </em>voice completely and Ichigo's eyes shoot open as he yelps and jumps backwards. </p>
<p>Grimmjow follows him step for step, fingers splayed wide across Ichigo’s skin, “<em> You're </em> hot, Kurosaki."</p>
<p>"IT'S NOT TEMPERATURE! IT'S NOT LITERAL HEAT!" </p>
<p>Grimmjow laughs, ducks closer and flexes his claws until <em> pop pop pop </em> they puncture the skin at ten small needle points and Ichigo shoves him. He takes a step back and flops down on Ichigo's bed like he <em> owns it </em> , the absolute <em> bastard </em>, he really is like a cat. He's still not wearing his jacket, and Ichigo wrenches one of the pillows out from under the arrancar and beats him in the face with it- after two hits it snags on the edge of the jawbone mask and the fabric of the case tears a bit, forcing Ichigo to abandon his attack or potentially ruin one of his only pillows. </p>
<p>For his part, Grimmjow looks bemused but unruffled by the attack, staring up at him. He didn’t even bother <em> defending </em>, which is new for the ever combative arrancar, too amused by watching his prey squirm and bluster maybe. "You alright there, Kurosaki?" </p>
<p>"Get out of my bed! And my room!" </p>
<p>"Nah," he stretches, feline and languid, and grins, flashing those sharp canines, "-it's my bed now. When you say 'hot', but not <em> heat </em>, do you mean like, 'I'm making you hot', that sorta thing?" </p>
<p>"Wha- uh. Sort of? That's kind of what it means- it is <em> NOT </em>your bed!" </p>
<p>Grimmjow ignores him quite resolutely. He rolls, face dragging across the comforter a few times and he pushes a foot against it, sliding his body across the fabric near sensually. He stares at Ichigo under his blue forelocks, the ‘do collapsing around his face now that he’s shoved his whole head across Ichigo’s pillow. Ichigo wants to pull his own hair out; is this what it's like to have a shitty roommate (that you want to kiss all the time)? He's getting a single dorm when he goes to college-</p>
<p>"You know I can smell it when you get wet, right?" There’s a near rumble in his voice and his lips quirk, eyes narrowed, laser focused interest raking slowly down Ichigo’s body.</p>
<p>Everything stops. Ichigo calmly picks up the pillow, smooths it down with one hand and then firmly grabs either side of it before pressing it abruptly over Grimmjow's face and pushing down, desperately wishing the hollow would suffocate and <em> die </em> and he’d never have to hear another word from that <em> stupidly </em> handsome face.</p>
<p>Unfortunately Grimmjow pushes the pillow off his face, (there's a little bit of struggle but in the end human musculature can only do so much and pumping it full of reiatsu would only tear the ligaments apart) and grins up at him, inordinately satisfied with Ichigo's discomfort. </p>
<p>"<em> Get out of my bed! </em>" Ichigo hisses, enraged. Of course the arrancar was just fucking with him. </p>
<p>"It's my bed now, I've claimed it.” He rolls across it again as if in demonstration. “Hey, by your 'human standards', were the other arrancar hot?" </p>
<p>Ichigo rolls his eyes, but this is slightly safer territory, at least, and trying to smother the handsome asshole <em> did </em>help soothe his self-consciousness. </p>
<p>"Not to me, no. I'm gay, so none of the female espada, Ulquiorra had eyes like a dead depressed fish only greener, Yammy had a goddamn <em> rat-tail </em> , Nnoitra was- fucking--he looked like a <em> tweaker </em> on <em> incredible </em>amounts of crack, and Starrk was just tired looking, though I guess probably the most attractive of them. If there were more espada I never met them."</p>
<p>He flicks his fingers as he lists them off, eyes slightly narrowed in thought and not really paying attention to Grimmjow as he speaks. </p>
<p>"What about Aizen?" </p>
<p>Ichigo pauses, looks at Grimmjow. There was - something, in his voice, with that question. He doesn't know <em> what </em> it was- but it was there. </p>
<p>"No. Objectively he was very handsome but - he just radiated smugness. Made his reiatsu feel greasy and his eyes were cold. No passion. And then in the end- fucking insane. So no. He didn't live up to my <em> human standards</em>."</p>
<p>Grimmjow almost- not <em> relaxes </em>, he wasn't quite tense, but something smooths over in his gaze -  “Guess he’s technically not an arrancar anway -” and his shoulders shift, and he reaches up. </p>
<p>Ichigo is too taken aback to really think about what he's doing until his arm is firmly gripped and he's yanked down onto the mattress beside Grimmjow. He gets an elbow in at the arrancar's ribs, and the other man grunts slightly (sounds like a small victory) but with a bit of shuffling and a loud complaint, Ichigo gives in and lays next to him. </p>
<p>He's still in his jeans--he'll regret it if he falls asleep in them, his circulation will go to shit. He's not used to wearing tight clothes anymore; shinigami attire has become so common. The norm, not the outlier. He doesn't know how to feel about that. </p>
<p>Grimmjow huffs, and his breath is hot where it hits Ichigo's cheek- Ichigo doesn't know when he turned to face him. </p>
<p>"Stop fucking thinking so much. You're not smart enough for it."</p>
<p>Ichigo jabs him in the ribs again but Grimmjow just smiles and - It's not soft, Grimmjow isn't <em> soft </em> but at this point the fact he isn't tiptoeing around him- treating him like he's fragile from so much time without his powers, so much time alone; it's worth so much. God, but he's <em> aggravating </em> and it takes Ichigo out of his head, keeps him grounded. </p>
<p>He sort of loves it. Grimmjow is always in his face and filling up his vision. All boyish young charm and high cheekbones and stupid pretty baby blues. </p>
<p>He pushes himself up onto one elbow to stare down at Ichigo from a better angle. “I didn’t think shinigami could be inta hollows. Is that a fucked up brain thing for you? Or do all shinigami secretly get their rocks off to Adonis hollows?” </p>
<p>Moment <em> ruined </em>, he wants to die. Permanently, this time. "Adonis was some Greek dude who's apparently the pinnacle of all beauty, he's used as a sort of- description, now. Calm down. And no-" He stops. </p>
<p>Shit. He can't say that. He's seen Shape Of Water. He's seen the tumblr blogs and shit. Humans are fucking <em> nasty </em> and- oh God the <em> monster </em>fuckers. If they knew things like Grimmjow existed, would they--he doesn't want to know. Have they become shinigami over the years? Do they retain that kink?</p>
<p>"... Some humans are weird, and who knows what shinigami are into. Twelfth division would probably be the most likely candidates. And I'm <em> not </em> a shinigami." </p>
<p>“But you’re part shinigami.” Grimmjow replies unfazed. He doesn’t give a shit about greek dudes. </p>
<p>He tilts his weight forward, more over top of Ichigo, until his whole torso is pressed against Ichigo’s side, “I woulda thought shinigami were like… instinctively repulsed by hollows,” he leans a little further forward, just to see if the kid will squirm, and presses a hand down on the mattress on the other side of his head. His voice drops to a near murmur, “but you don’t mind havin’ me this close, do ya?”</p>
<p>"I mind. I mind on a severe level, as in 'I'm going to rearrange your ribcage if you don't back off'." He hisses, but his breath hitches dangerously, eyes narrowing and face <em> infuriatingly </em> flaring red again, he can <em> feel </em> it, curse his father's genetics. </p>
<p>"I've been actively shinigami for less than half my lifespan, I don't know what they're repulsed by. Except Byakuya; I'm pretty sure my existence is a massive source of disgust for him." </p>
<p>He lifts a hand and shoves at Grimmjow's chest, locks his elbow and pushes firmly, twists his face into a deep scowl. </p>
<p>Grimmjow rolls off of him in a huff of laughter, “You got a strapon big enough to fuck up my lungs? You kinky <em> fucker.” </em></p>
<p>He chokes on air for a solid moment, a pained, strangled sound escaping him. "<em> No </em> ! What the <em> fuck- </em>" </p>
<p>He doesn't deserve this, he really doesn't. He's a good student, an <em> excellent </em>brother and an acceptable son, what has he done to experience this? What cosmic entity is laughing at him right now? </p>
<p>"I don't even have a <em> packer </em> - I'm not talking about this with you. Get out of my <em> room. </em>" He covers his eyes with the back of his hand, lips pulled in a grimace. </p>
<p><em> 'We could bite him, King, tear through his hierro and show him who's boss-' </em>he slides the barrier in his head firmly closed and muffles the layered voice decisively. God forbid his horny brain manifest an avatar in his head. Oh wait. It did. </p>
<p>Fucking <em> hollows</em>. He can't catch a break.</p>
<p>“You’re so uptight.” Grimmjow lifts a foot and in a move belying his complete lack of bones fits it snug against Kurosaki’s hip. “Ya gotta get laid, Kurosaki.” He kicks him hard, shoving him entirely off the bed. </p>
<p>He jeers, when Kurosaki hits the floor, and lifts himself to watch the boy scramble back to his feet. He copies Ichigo’s exacerbated tone exactly. “Get out of my <em> bed, Kurosaki.”  </em></p>
<p>Unfortunately for Grimmjow's amusement levels, this is far from the first time Ichigo has been unceremoniously kicked out of bed, and he rolls mid-air and lands on his hands and feet in a lithe crouch before bouncing up with the beginnings of a snarl on his face. </p>
<p>Grimmjow’s blue eyes flicker up to dance across the room, entirely disregarding the human. He could scent mark the whole place as his territory. Not like Kurosaki did a very good job. No claw marks or anything, but that might have more to do with the fact that he still lives with his sire. Kurosaki might not be allowed to claim territory at his current strength level. Weird. </p>
<p>He flops back down and sprawls further, the claws of one hand kneading comfortably at the fabric under him. His other hand scratches distractedly at the scar across his chest. The one Kurosaki <em> gave </em>him. </p>
<p>He sneaks a glance at the shinigami out of the corner of his eyes, tracing along bare skin where it disappears under his clothes. Kurosaki didn’t even bother to keep the scars Grimmjow gifted him in return. So whatever claims he made about Grimmjow being attractive to humans must have been an objective statement, not a personal admission. </p>
<p>Shame. </p>
<p>And a depressing thought. Grimmjow came here for fun, not depression. Hueco Mundo was filled with that shit and he didn’t want it. What horribly awkward thing could he say to make the kid blush now. </p>
<p>Something in Ichigo’s chest behind his heart screams <em> ours ours ours </em> when Grimmjow shimmies against the sheets again and he's tired of being pushed around, now. His hand finds the little wooden pendant he was given so long ago and with an odd rush of reiatsu he's carefully catching his human body and hefting it into the desk chair. </p>
<p>"Get out of my room or I'll stab you with an <em> actual sword </em>, Grimmjow-" </p>
<p>“I’d fuck Aizen.” </p>
<p>Oh what. What the fuck. Ichigo gags a bit, at the statement; not so much at the idea of Grimmjow fucking Aizen, just- the concept. That Aizen <em> fucks</em>. It completely derails the building rage and he sits on the floor for a hot second, abruptly folding his limbs down, and grabs at his temples.</p>
<p>“Let him fuck me… might be more accurate,” Grimmjow continues his musings unbothered by Ichigo’s crisis.</p>
<p>Ichigo motions, with one hand- "Your standards? Where you think they are -" waves it above his head, "- they're <em> actually lower than the graves humans dig</em>."</p>
<p>His eyes are wide with a mix of tired amusement, horror, and disgust wrapped into one neat little package, and he reaches up to tangle his fingers in the familiar cloth wrapped around Zangetsu's handle. </p>
<p>The arrancar flips himself into the traditional ‘paint me like one of your french girls’ pose and quirks a blue eyebrow, the hand not used to support his head lifting a single finger. “One. Aizen’s vasto lorde shaped, which means he doesn’t have a freaky dick or nothing. Two,” he raises a second finger, “he’s not gonna eat me, cuz again. He’s a shinigami. Three,” he lifts a third finger, “Aizen’s <em> really strong. </em> I wouldn’t die. Probably. So he’s a pretty good option to me.” And then just for the hell of it he folds his ring and index fingers down to flash Ichigo the bird. </p>
<p>Ichigo flips him off in return. "It's <em> Aizen </em> , he wouldn't need a <em> freaky </em> dick to make sex completely unenjoyable. All he has to do is <em> exist </em> and my dick would retreat back into my body like a scared crab into it's shell."</p>
<p>Ichigo narrows his eyes, mouth twisting into a confused semi-sneer, then shakes his head. </p>
<p>"Grimmjow, if Aizen was ever confirmed as a sexual entrepreneur, the presumably first shinigami to fuck a human-shaped hollow, I would have to throw up until I died. I'd have to. Like, it would be a physical compulsion."</p>
<p>Grimmjow frowns, expression closing off rapidly and gaze cool as he tenses, muscles coiling abruptly as he jerks to a sitting position. Any traces of humor vanish, to hide the flicker of almost hurt he feels. </p>
<p>Ichigo still remembers <em> I can touch your heart </em> and oppressive reiatsu tinged with a yawning abyss of <em> lonely superior alone alone alone BETTER THAN YOU </em> tastes like grease on his tongue thick and impenetrable clinging to his skin he can't spit it out -----</p>
<p>His own spiritual energy expands defensively before he remembers himself and wrangles it back in, but the disgust edges his aura like cling wrap over a smooth surface. Aizen is- <em> was </em> something beyond disgusting, to him. </p>
<p><em> Was</em>. </p>
<p>Zangetsu presses at the edges of his mind, pinprick points of comfort, reassurance, hollow-edged and deadly in their promise--he's not powerless anymore. The nightmares of Aizen coming back, escaping, finishing the job and he wouldn't even know until his weak, plus soul was expelled from his body; because no one would have come to <em> tell him </em>-</p>
<p>He's getting too worked up about this. It was a bad idea to let the conversation continue. He stands up abruptly, cracks his knuckles one by one on his left hand. </p>
<p>"Seriously, Grimmjow, I'm done now. I have to study, get out of my room. Go bug Urahara."</p>
<p>So Kurosaki <em> does </em> feel repulsed by the idea of sex with a hollow, he can feel it in the reiatsu, read it on his face. Grimmjow’s not <em> great </em> with emotion - he’s still learning - but Ichigo makes it so <em> obvious. </em> Why didn’t he just fucking <em> say that</em>. Grimmjow doesn’t give a shit. Why would he? It’s not his business who Kurosaki fucks or doesn’t fuck. </p>
<p>Grimmjow sneers. “Whatever. Have my stupid bed back. It’s not that fucking great anyway.”  He kicks at the pillow, and lunges into a sonido through the window before it smacks against the wall. He might have shattered glass in the process but he doesn’t give a shit. </p>
<p>There's a distance in Ichigo's eyes that vanishes when Grimmjow sneers, and then confusion replaces it, but he doesn't get a chance to even open his mouth and ask a question--the arrancar is <em> gone </em> and there's glass <em> everywhere</em>.</p>
<p>"Fuck." He sighs, eloquent, and pulls out the shitty little flip phone Urahara gave him, already halfway through climbing back into his human body. The phone migrates from spiritual hand to flesh and blood and he holds it up to his ear after pressing speed dial. </p>
<p>"Yo. Yeah, hat'n'clogs, 's me. Your blue pet project fucked up my window. Yes I want a new one. You think I want goat-face beating my ass? Hell no. <em> Yes </em> you have to fix it! He's here because <em> you </em> let him be. No I'm not- he's not <em> my responsibility! </em>"</p>
<p>He hangs up after another moment and looks down at the floor, at the glass all over <em> his </em> damn bed. </p>
<p>He's going to need the broom. </p><hr/>
<p>Grimmjow doesn’t show up anywhere in or near Karakura for the next few weeks. Not at the shoten to amuse himself with petty manual labour and the odd jobs that give him the loosest sense of purpose after the collapse of Las Noches. Not to the high school to bother the inhabitants that needed to pretend they were focusing on class. Not at the Kurosaki clinic to pick a fight with Ichigo.</p>
<p>He isn’t avoiding Kurosaki. He’s not that weak. And his ego regenerates really quickly, Nel told him so. Which, of course, means that at some point or another he does need to prove it.</p>
<p>He snarls to himself, already pissed off about this whole situation – why is he even <em> bothering, </em> it’s not his job to prove the value of hollows to someone who’s clearly <em> not interested. </em>Except for that fact that Kurosaki is one and he could at least admit as much. Kurosaki’s a little bitch.</p>
<p>Whatever. He’s already fucking committed and he’s gonna <em> prove </em> that hollow’s aren’t disgusting. He’s gonna sweep Kurosaki off his goddamned feet, and then when the stupid kid with his smug stupid face is blushing and stuttering and <em> admits </em> that he’s at least a tiny bit into Grimmjow, then Grimmjow’s gonna tell HIM that HE’S the gross one.</p>
<p>It’s a genius and fool proof plan.</p>
<p>He rips the Garganta open with his claws, right into Kurosaki’s stupid little not territory and drops the squealing hollow onto the floor, foot already flashing out to stomp on it’s trachea and hold it in place for Kurosaki. He shoves his fists into his pockets and turns to stare out the window, refusing to meet Kurosaki’s gaze first – like he needs fucking approval. Please. He knows he’s good.</p>
<p>How many times has any of Kurosaki’s little shinigami buddies brought him a whole ass adjuchas. Fucking none, he’d bet. </p>
<p>“For you.”</p>
<p>Ichigo stares for a long, long moment. He has to- take this in. </p>
<p>Whatever <em> this </em>is. </p>
<p>Screeching hollow ruining his floorboards. </p>
<p>Grimmjow perched upon it like some elegant bird of prey displaying it's kill before the gods. </p>
<p>His <em> floorboards</em>. </p>
<p>"What," he breathes, eyes wide and disbelieving "- the <em> fuck. </em> " Absently he pulls the back of his shirt a bit, hefting the line of the collar higher on his chest because he's in his <em> boxers and a t-shirt, his goddamn pajamas </em> , <em> titties out for the world, </em>sitting at his desk reading his English textbook. </p>
<p>He jolts a bit and lifts his feet automatically when the hollow lashes out towards him, desperate, and he ends up in a semi-crouch on the seat of his chair, legs tucked under him. </p>
<p>"Grimmjow what the <em> fuck. </em> Is that a whole-ass hollow? What- <em> why. </em>" His voice is slightly high-pitched in confusion and mild (just a little) panic. </p>
<p>“Oh this thing?” Grimmjow’s lazy, unbothered, very nonchalant gaze flickers to Ichigo’s form - his pajama’s look comfy, he notes, maybe he should expand his wardrobe beyond his old uniform and his jumpsuit. Maybe get a new jacket to throw into the mix. Pajama’s seem nice in theory - “nothin’ much. Just figured you an’ yer blunt claws could use a snack after all the-- Be <em> quiet! </em> ” He growls when the hollow under him screeches at the mention of eating. His reiatsu drops, controlled and <em> only </em>on Kurosaki’s prey, and the thing under him stills with a terrified squeak. Grimmjow glances back up at Kurosaki, “it’s a gift. Or whatever. Not a big deal. Thought you could use it cuz you’re working too hard to hunt or something.” </p>
<p>Ichigo blinks, reaches up and rubs his eyes, stares some more. </p>
<p>Something unhooks in the back of his chest and his mouth <em> waters </em> abruptly, and his gaze trails from the shivering <em> prey </em> up to <em> blue </em> eyes and- oh what the <em> fuck </em> this shouldn't be doing it for him. His <em> floorboards </em>, man, how's he going to fix that? He can't refloor the entire room without his dad catching on. He's going to have to buy a rug or some shit. </p>
<p>He drags his tongue along the back of his teeth and swallows carefully, <em> Shiro is this your fault </em> and then the softest he's ever heard the hollow speak; <em> no nonono he's good he's good he's so good King, fuck it would taste so good feel it? Feel it's reiatsu so fucking tasty such a good meal, reward him we gotta reward him you- we- us- for him- </em></p>
<p>He writes the spirit off as unbelievably horny and therefore not able to be conversed with and crosses his legs quickly. Fuck. </p>
<p>"That's… nice. But uh- I've never eaten a hollow, Grimmjow." Focus on the facts, don't let any <em> feelings </em> colour your response; it's just weird instincts and shit. It's not real. </p>
<p>Grimmjow blinks at him, a little taken aback. It’s <em> nice? </em> Fuck if someone did this for Grimmjow he’d probably...huh… he doesn’t know. He glances down at the adjuchas. No one’s ever really given Grimmjow anything before. Except Aizen gave him his body and his sword and Ichigo gave him his scar. </p>
<p>His hand flexes in his pocket. Maybe Kurosaki needed even nicer things? More hollows? Grimmjow could try to catch a vasto lorde but they’re hard to find. Fuck. But Ichigo’s one so he shouldn’t have skimped on this little shrimp. </p>
<p>“People like different parts?” Grimmjow says, slowly. Not unsure, but less confident in how Ichigo might react. “The livers are usually good. But if you don’t like eating the actual meat, you don’t gotta. The reiryoku is the good part.” </p>
<p>The hollow thrashes again, and Grimmjow crouches swiftly to replace his foot with his claws. “If you fuck up his floors anymore I’m gonna make you fix em <em> before eating you.</em> Is that what you want?” It makes a stupid bitch noise and Grimmjow smirks. </p>
<p>“I didn’t know what kind of hollow you like but this one’s sorta… what's it called. Wagyu? Shaped?” He points at the hollow’s bull horns. “Urahara said that’s good for humans.”</p>
<p>Ichigo really, really doesn't want to move. He doesn't actually want to test if Grimmjow was <em> bluffing </em> about being able to smell -- </p>
<p>Anyway. </p>
<p>This is potentially the weirdest thing that's ever happened to him and he had his ass kicked into a pit in the ground only to be bullied by a fully grown man for several days. </p>
<p><em> Bullied. For days. </em>He's had a long run of weird shit. </p>
<p>The weirdest part is <em> definitely </em> how he's reacting to this. Would Rukia be disgusted by what he's thinking? That he's actually really fucking tempted to <em> eat it </em>? </p>
<p>Not- meaty, steaming chunks of flesh. But- there's something, really, genuinely attractive about consuming the energy, but how would he even do that? He can't exactly call up the instinct at will- oh. Maybe he can.</p>
<p>His fingers flex and he reaches for his little substitute shinigami badge. "Yeah, okay. You just- do you kill it before you eat it? What's the protocol here, I'm out of my depth."</p>
<p>He taps the badge to his chest and is relieved to find he left most of the physical arousal with his physical body as he stands, slowly, curls his fingers into claws and shreds them across the air in front of his face, summons his mask. </p>
<p>Grimmjow doesn’t start when Ichigo <em> agrees </em>- holy shit - and steps closer. “Some hollows like eating ‘em when they’re still alive. You’re,” he remembers that he’s not supposed to actually be trying to fuck Kurosaki, and plasters his smug smirk back on like a bad paint job, “kinda delicate, so you should kill it first. Then you just,” he opens his mouth and breathes deep into his stomach, replicating the instinctive movement he knows, but can’t really explain. “‘S called gonzui.” </p>
<p>He reaches his free hand out to guide Ichigo down onto his level, pulling his hand - nails still blunt - to hover over the top of the one Grimmjow’s using to pin the adjuchas. “All yours, Kurosaki.”</p>
<p>He rolls his eyes, a little, he's not <em> delicate </em> just- well. Maybe he is a bit delicate. A picky eater? Oh God what is he <em> doing. </em> He can't really be considering-- Grimmjow takes his hand and he follows smoothly, slides his fingers over coarse hierro <em> (so much paper under his hands, really) </em>and he knows he can't use Zangetsu, he'd just purify it. </p>
<p><em> Incoming, Shiro, </em>he thinks, then curls his fingers--are those claws now? He didn't know he could do that-</p>
<p>Tears upwards from the throat, crumbles the mask, it feels wet underneath like raw flesh, and his stomach doesn't even turn, <em> oh God- </em></p>
<p>His jaw cracks open as it splinters into particles and he <em> pulls in </em>, not an inhale of air, straight to his stomach instead, like it can deflate and inflate, the organ all wrong-</p>
<p>Shiro makes a borderline <em> pornographic </em> noise in his head, deep appreciation, sated, pleased, almost feeling sane, on the edge of madness rather than wading through the midst of it. The room is empty of foreign hollow pressure, now, and Ichigo has never felt so <em> full </em> after eating, but there's a warning siren going off in his head somewhere past his inner hollow's glee that says <em> danger, danger, keep going and it'll only be harder to fill.  </em></p>
<p>Grimmjow watches in near awe as Kurosaki eats his gift, the way his teeth part, gold eyes close behind shaded eyeholes. It’s horribly intimate. Grimmjow’s never offered a kill to someone before. Watching his fraccion eat his leftovers is not the same thing. </p>
<p>Thoughtlessly he reaches his hand up, careful to avoid the razor teeth of Kurosaki’s demon face, it’s not uncommon for hollow’s to try and keep feeding after their first meal in a while, and slides fingers through Kurosaki’s hair under his ear. </p>
<p>“Good?” He finds himself asking, even though <em> he just said </em>he doesn’t need Kurosaki’s approval. He pulls himself a little closer by the grip he has on Kurosaki’s hair to cover for it. He wants to get his face in Kurosaki’s neck. He wants to know what a full Kurosaki smells like up close in high definition.</p>
<p>“Thought you’d like that.” Satisfaction is clear in his toothy grin. </p>
<p>Ichigo blows out steam, and then reaches up and crushes the mask, a curl of self hatred tugging at his heartstrings. </p>
<p>
  <em> But it feels amazing. </em>
</p>
<p>He swallows, his throat feels swollen and his senses are on high alert, like he's inhaled concentrated awareness, somehow. He grabs at Grimmjow's sleeve, then shifts his grip to his arm, but doesn't pull or push him away. Just lets him- press close, push his face into his throat and grind the sharp edges of his jawbone mask into Ichigo's skin even as the last vestiges of his own bone mask turn to nothingness. </p>
<p>"Yeah," he half-gasps, and he wonders if his pupils are blown as wide as they feel because he swears he can see the patterns of reishi bands in the air, rippling, "-it was… Something."</p>
<p>God he hopes none of the shinigami find out what he just did. </p>
<p>
  <em> We gotta give back, King. Gottagottagotta. He did so good, reward him. If you wont fuck him we gotta hunt right back. Something stronger. We can. We can do that. </em>
</p>
<p>Ichigo shudders, slightly, but--yeah. He can do that. Maybe it'll freak Grimmjow out enough, deflate his ego or something that- he'll - go? Away? </p>
<p>He doesn't know what he wants from the arrancar anymore. (That’s a lie, he wants those hands around his throat, pin him down please, <em> pretty please, fuck me- </em>)</p>
<p>It's whatever. Doesn't matter. </p>
<p>Grimmjow presses his whole mouth against Kurosaki’s neck, and when Kurosaki <em> lets him </em>, a single hand clutching his sleeve, Grimmjow uses his hold to pull his head back a little further and presses his lips and tongue open over his jugular. His teeth don’t even pierce skin, he just drags them lightly across the thin surface.</p>
<p>A purring growl rumbles through him with his words, “toldja I could smell you, Kurosaki~” he nips, just a small bite, at the soft skin and then he withdraws, forehead pressing at the juncture between Kurosaki’s neck and shoulder so Grimmjow can sneak another bite in at his clavicle. “Ya smell sweet.” </p>
<p>His mouth is watering. But he pulls back, self-control a tight collar around his own neck. He can’t ruin this. This is <em> revenge.  </em></p>
<p>“It’s a mighty shame, you know?” He asks as he stands, a hand fishing around discreetly behind his back to catch at the slices in the world that he can use to pull a portal to the Garganta into existence. “But I got no interest in fucking a <em> shinigami</em>.” He sneers then smirks, haughty and condescending, down at the flushed hybrid and steps backward. He lets the garganta close with a snap, sealing him off. </p>
<p>Ichigo stares at the blank space for a long moment, heart <em> pounding </em>in his chest and skin still tingling from contact-</p>
<p>Oh. Okay. That's - that's a <em> fucking challenge </em> , Shiro coos, sharpening his claws on his blade <em> he wants a fight wants a chase wants wants wants I could smell him too. He's not as slick as he thinks he is.  </em></p>
<p>Ichigo grins, briefly, before he can smooth his face out again, and it's feral and wide and sharp. Tomorrow Kon will be going to school for him. He has a <em> point to prove</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <strong>Please check the updated tags for this chapter!!</strong>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Seriously, hat'n'clogs, it's fine. Just do it."</p><p> </p><p>Urahara narrows his eyes, then sighs, shoulders slumping in resignation- like he doesn't enjoy helping Ichigo break all the rules. He acts so benevolent, fucking force of chaos that he is. He motions towards the not-portal and Ichigo grins, dips his head and flares into bankai without a word before blurring out of existence-</p><p> </p><p>Urahara grabs his hat to make sure it doesn't go flying. He's sure Ichigo does that on purpose, these days. </p><p> </p><p>When Ichigo emerges it's-- desert, endless, and he swallows quickly, has to repress the memories that bubble up under the black sky and white sands, the endless moon. </p><p> </p><p>He reaches out instead, Shiro a buzzing hum under his skin, <em> I'll use the mask soon, pull it on to subdue something strong alright, calm down, don't wanna be a target yet, </em> and focuses. After a moment ribbons start to appear- he didn't quite expect it to work. They're oddly clustered, one tapered end and then dozens of threads branching loosely off them, but he's not surprised adjuchas look like that, with how many souls they must eat. He slides through them, searching, and it takes a while before he finds one that- oozes power. It almost makes him <em> hungry </em> and Shiro hisses and croons in his head: it's not exactly a good sign that he's so willing to work with his crazy counterpart, but. Well. </p><p> </p><p>Ichigo has always been stubborn, headstrong. Challenges are; not insulting but, he <em> has </em> to prove himself. <em> Childhood trauma </em>, his middle school counsellor sing-songs and he rolls his eyes. </p><p> </p><p>The mask flares on and he adjusts his grip on the pitch black daito, chain wrapping around his wrist a little further and he's off - a mix of shunpo and sonido leaving not a grain out of place, no sound but all of the speed. </p><p> </p><p>It's easy to find, with the ribbon, and he gets the drop on it well enough only to realise that - well - he doesn't have anything to subdue it with. Not really. His practical fighting experience is made up of applying liberal near death experiences, somehow scraping by, and then repeating. All his techniques are made to be <em> fatal</em>. </p><p> </p><p>There's a scuffle, and he possibly cuts off an arm and punches it's mask. It's less humanoid than he expected, twin tails and a slope to its spine, but also much more humanoid than an adjuchas so perhaps he's not surprised. </p><p> </p><p>He gains a few scrapes, his coat gets a little ragged but honestly not by much, and when he has it trussed up in black chains (thank you, Zangetsu, soul partner, forever ally) and is dragging it like so much slightly squirming dead weight (maybe it's not actually vasto lorde, it hasn't spoken once and they can do that can't they? Either way it's still stronger by far than what Grimmjow brought him so it's enough to rub his nose in it) he's quick to heal again. </p><p> </p><p>This time he reaches out and feels in the direction of Las Noches; water and heat and steel- ah. Yeah, there's- he's there, and Ichigo definitely doesn't think about what his reiatsu feels like. Ichigo may be shit at containing his own reiatsu--he's the spiritual equivalent of an airhorn that's stuck blaring, but he's always been good at finding others. </p><p> </p><p>He has to foil one escape attempt on the way but eventually he's standing outside the wall, broken and shattered in places. Shiro is pacing in anticipation and he takes off the mask just to dull the connection, relieved when his nerves ease up in response. </p><p> </p><p>Fucking <em> hollows.  </em></p><p> </p><p>He flares his spiritual pressure a few times, wondering if Grimmjow will come to him or if he'll have to go track him down, but <em> someone </em> will probably come and then they can invite him in and it won't be trespassing because unlike Grimmjow, Ichigo <em> respects personal space</em>. </p><p> </p><p>Gimmjow’s head snaps up, attention shifting away from Harribel's fraccion so abruptly one of them actually nearly manages to injure him - but he reflexively hardens his hierro at the last minute and it saves himself a hand. He leaves without offering an explanation, cutting their 3:1 spar short.</p><p> </p><p>He drops out of sonido when he’s already halfway between the training yard and the door Ichigo’s stationed himself at. What is he doing? </p><p> </p><p>He changes direction immediately. Heading towards the towers that fall under his jurisdiction, his territory, instead. He doesn’t know what Kurosaki thinks he’s doing, but Grimmjow’s not biting. Kurosaki made it perfectly clear what he thought of shinigami hollow fraternization and he’s not gonna be made a fool of. </p><p> </p><p>‘Throw up until Kurosaki died’ huh? Grimmjow’s already won this game. </p><p> </p><p>He stalks down the hallways until he finds the sleeping quarters he prefers. He’ll take a nap and hopefully Kurosaki will piss off before he wakes up.</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo frowns softly when he feels Grimmjow's reiatsu moving <em> away </em> but that's fine. He spikes his own again, and then his frown is replaced by a fond smile when he feels another familiar energy rushing towards him, this time. It's always so nice to see Nel. She doesn't visit enough. </p><p> </p><p>“ICHI~GO!” She slams the doors open with a shoulder and launches herself at him, wrapping him up in a bear hug. “I haven’t seen you in forever! You need to visit more! What are you doing here? Is that a hollow? Woah! He’s a strong one isn’t he?” </p><p> </p><p>Ichigo staggers slightly, before wrapping his arms around her in return with a laugh. </p><p> </p><p>"I can't make my way here on my own! <em> You </em> should visit more. Urahara still has that gigai you used and the twins think you're great."</p><p> </p><p>He let's go of her and gently pushes at her shoulder, extricating himself before loss of rib density occurs. </p><p> </p><p>"Yeah I'm actually here to give it to Grimmjow. I'm then gonna throw him around the desert a bit, because I feel like that'll be fun. And he has it coming, really. Just figured I should wait for an invite inside before I go curbstomp him and rub his face in the fact that I'm a better uh… 'Hunter', I guess."</p><p> </p><p>He smiles sheepishly at her, rubs the back of his head with one hand, absently. She'll understand, right? She's a hollow. That's - probably not how it works, but he can hope. </p><p> </p><p>Nel releases him. She raises a finger to point at him, drawing it to the hollow, and then to the agitated prickle of Grimmjow’s energy, then back to Ichigo. “You’re hunting for <em> Grimmjow </em> ? Oh, he might not like that. ” She steps back to eye up the thrashing hollow Ichigo’s tied down. “Then again, that is a <em> real </em>nice one. I’d say yes. Can I watch?”</p><p> </p><p>"No, you <em> can't </em>watch, but if you visit soon I'll give you a play by play of how I kicked his ass so hard he got carpet burn from sand." He grins, lopsided and painfully endearing, a genuine smile. Few people get those. </p><p> </p><p>"Am I allowed in to dump this fucker on top of him and watch the ensuing chaos? If it gets real wild you'll probably get to watch me blow out a few walls by punting him into them. Maybe I'll use Zangetsu like a baseball bat."</p><p> </p><p>It's not like it's the first cat he's - he wants to say beaten up, but Yoruichi hasn't actually lost a spar with him yet, so. Not the first cat he's wrangled? Annoyed? Driven into a blind fury? That works. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I didn’t mean your fight. I have no interest in violence,” She flaps her hand dismissively. “I meant the sex! But yeah, you can head on in. Just stay out of Harribel’s territory, she doesn’t care much for visitors. Grimmjow doesn’t either, usually.”</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo chokes a little, then squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. His face twists, and then he sighs and cracks one eye open. </p><p>"<em> Nel. </em>I love you dearly. You are never allowed to watch me have sex with anyone." </p><p> </p><p>He pats her fondly on the shoulder, hefts the now-whimpering hollow to get a better grip on it, and shunpo's into the remainder of Las Noches with a bemused sort of affection on his face. </p><p>She's really wild. </p><p> </p><p>It doesn't take much effort at all to sniff Grimmjow out (is that hollow of him? Should he be thinking in terms of hunting or tracking? Who knows, who cares) and when he confirms that yes, he's definitely behind this door <em> is he asleep? Bastard </em>-</p><p> </p><p>He kicks it open, sees blue hair on the bed. The room is sorta dusty. </p><p> </p><p>He makes a sound in his throat he didn't think physically possible; maybe spiritually, though, a distinctly hollow little croon, and shoves the bound hollow inside with his foot, hesitating on unbinding it. He doesn't want Grimmjow to be <em> completely </em> caught off guard when he unleashes the thing on him. That's sort of mean. What if it got in a lucky hit while he was waking up? Ichigo would feel guilty for <em> eternity.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“Get out of my <em> room, Kurosaki.” </em> Grimmjow mimics the words Kurosaki threw at him those weeks ago without turning around, feeling particularly petulant today. His voice is gruff though. </p><p> </p><p>He can sense the other hollow Ichigo brought with him and though he’s foolishly curious and hopeful, he doesn’t want to hear it. Kid probably doesn’t even know the meaning of the action.  </p><p> </p><p>Ichigo scoffs, and steps over the hollow, pegs Zangetsu into the ground by it's head and it goes violently still, eyeing the blade even when he releases the handle. </p><p> </p><p>"Grimmjow, you <em> motherfucker. </em>" He hisses, and then he steps up onto the bed and stands on the mattress, a snarl on his tongue. </p><p> </p><p>"Get the fuck up and look at me you prissy egotistical bastard. I have a goddamn <em> point to prove </em>to you and it can either go smoothly or with me batting you around the desert like a soccer ball. A deflated one with bones rattling around it's insides."</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow snarls and rolls, swinging a foot up to catch Ichigo in the stomach. “You made your point, ya little shit. Now piss off.”</p><p> </p><p>He glances at the hollow - yeah, he was right. Definitely stronger than the one Grimmjow caught. Fucking show off. </p><p> </p><p>It would be a nice gesture and all if Kurosaki was actually interested but he wasn’t. He just wanted to prove he was better than Grimmjow, rub his face in his inadequacy. Smug shinigami brat, always looking down on him.</p><p> </p><p>If Kurosaki wanted a fight Grimmjow was more than happy to oblige. He’d tear the brat apart, see if he cared. </p><p> </p><p>He grabs at Grimmjow's ankle with a hiss and yanks slightly, dragging him a few inches down the mattress; and then drops between the arrancar's spread legs, leaning over him quickly and pushing his thighs apart. He leans in <em> further </em> and sinks his teeth into one shoulder, fingers peeling the collar of the shitty jacket back to get at skin. He has to work hard before the hierro splits and he gets a mouthful of blood, and he sits back as quick as a snake's strike, sucks crimson off his teeth. </p><p> </p><p>"<em> I, </em> " he hisses, and it is dual layered and echoing even without his mask, his eyes itch, is the blackness seeping into the sclera- " <em> am </em> <b> <em>not</em> </b> <em> a shinigami</em>." He wipes his mouth on the back of his wrist. </p><p> </p><p>And then he's up again, wraps his hand around the grooves and edges in the prey hollow's mask and lifts it up in display, grins at the other man, still tastes blood on his tongue. </p><p>"I'm not a hollow either, Grimmjow. Enjoy your meal."</p><p> </p><p>The chains loosen, slack, and he pins the creature with a dead stare as it goes to move- every muscle in it's body locks up and he turns away; if that's not enough <em> of an opening </em>to kill it, Grimmjow isn't worth his time anyway. </p><p> </p><p>Was that him or Shiro who thought that? Dangerously, he doesn't know. </p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow clamps a hand over the bite mark, eyes wide and brain stalling, mouth open in shock. A funny little noise escapes his throat, halfway between a question and a prayer. <em> Why’d you stop, come back.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“What the hell-” he forces out, hoarse sounding and he has to swallow dry. Okay, he might have misread, because that sounds like Ichigo is <em> very </em>interested. He shoots to his feet, none of his normal grace present but something vengeful and simmering - his default rage catches him in the next step - and he snarls, low, Kurosaki’d really turn his back on him?</p><p> </p><p>Blue eyes flicker to his <em> gift</em>. </p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t kill it clean, not like Kurosaki with his dainty little claws and pretty sensibilities or whatever the fuck. He lunges after it with his teeth - Pantera still sheathed at his side - and rips its throat open in one swift move. He follows its corpse to the floor, heedless of the gorey spread of red across his white clothes - and then, because Kurosaki’s not the <em> only one </em>making a point, he tears into its actual flesh. The power in it is near intoxicating and he blinks hard through it, swaying lightly. </p><p> </p><p>It’s been a long time since he’s eaten something this good. Grimmjow’s usually not one to bother, he rarely hunts now that he’s an arrancar. There is little point other than to stave off boredom. He can’t grow through eating, he can’t regress. And when he does eat he keeps it clean. He’s not one for poor hygiene. </p><p> </p><p>None of that is evident in the savagery he displays when he eviscerates the hollow under him. Liver, eyes, bone marrow from a femur - his three favourite pieces - disappear down his gullet before he stands again. He reaches a hand out to jerk Kurosaki around by his shoulder, his teeth bared and the skin around his mouth, the bone across his cheek, blood covered. The gore runs in long rivets down his neck and chest, he makes it so <em> obvious </em>: he’s a monster, always will be until some shinigami eventually puts him down. </p><p> </p><p>He takes the fear and turns it to wrath. He let’s Kurosaki see him. Properly, maybe, for the first time since their showdown during the invasion. </p><p> </p><p>“You gonna fucking run now, Kurosaki?” He grits out, teeth clenching so hard the bones on his face make a painful grinding noise. “You remember what I am now? I’m not one of your handsome shinigami’s or your ‘hot’ Adonis humans. I’m a goddamned <em> arrancar</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>He shoves himself closer to Kurosaki, he’s taller and the height difference offers him the illusion  of control, even though he’s the one with Kurosaki’s teeth marks in his neck. If he was in a better mood he might tease <em> forward much? And here I am, the gentleman, I didn’t mark you up at all. </em> </p><p> </p><p>He snarls again and shoves Kurosaki in the chest. “You gonna go vomit now? Huh? Go on! The door’s over there.” He swings an arm wide, feels too out of control of this situation. He never thought Kurosaki was the cruel type. “You made. Your fucking. Point.”</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo snaps his teeth in return, hand flying up with Zangetsu's hilt clasped in his fingers, knocks Grimmjow's white knuckled grip off his shoulder and spins, taking one sharp step in close, chests nearly bumping and Grimmjow's breath hot and rancid with fresh meat. </p><p> </p><p>"Did I? Because it seems like you're not fucking <em> getting it </em>, Grimmjow. Are you stupid or just oblivious?" He shoves at him with his free hand; in the other chains rattle ominously around his wrist. </p><p> </p><p>"I know <em> exactly </em> what you are, we've crossed teeth and claw and swords. The only part of me you haven't seen is one I don't even <em> remember </em> and you should be damned <em> thankful </em> because you <em> wouldn't have lived through it</em>. You-" he jabs him this time, two fingers, in the sternum,"- aren't like me but only because <em> I </em> still have <em> human </em> and even then that is <em> tenuous at best. </em> You think you're so <em> dangerous </em> and that no one who isn't espada, hollow, or arrancar can understand you-- you're wrong, <em> King on his throne </em> , focus and <em> bloodshed, </em> always hungry, always looking for another castle to claim. Pantera and Zangetsu have <em> met </em> and drawn blood and I thought maybe-" He cuts off, lifts his hand away from bloody skin. Touches his eyes, looks near stunned at the wetness gathering there. </p><p> </p><p>He grits his teeth, tightens his grip on the cloth-wrapped hilt. </p><p> </p><p>"<em> You </em> came to <em> me </em> to fight. It was <em> you. </em>" He slides his hand from his cheek to rest over his own throat. </p><p> </p><p>"And you came to <em> me </em> with an offering. <em> You. </em> And then you <em> left </em> and called me <em> shinigami</em>. Make up your <em> fucking mind. </em>"</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow’s anger tempers to a razor's edge as Ichigo yells at him. Grimmjow doesn’t <em> do </em>arguments. He does fights and killings. Quick, efficient, and lethal.</p><p> </p><p>And he can’t do that with Ichigo, not right now. </p><p> </p><p>“Me too. But you’re the one who said fucking a hollow was <em> disgusting</em>.” Grimmjow's words are quiet and cold, rage burning a warpath under his skin, fingers caressing Pantera’s hilt. </p><p> </p><p>Ichigo throws his hand in the air after a moment of silence. Defeat doesn't suit him, his eyes flicking gold then dull, dull brown, nothing like the usual warmth. </p><p> </p><p>"Not you, Grimmjow. I said <em> Aizen </em> was disgusting. You're - pretty much all my weird adolescent wet dreams come to life." He just sounds tired, now. </p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow starts, stops, steps back -- <em> Aizen? But then </em>-- and feels uncomfortable. His hand jumps from Pantera’s hilt and he crosses his arms and turns his shoulder, eyes flicking to the bloodstain on his floor. The carnage he caused. It doesn’t make him feel better. </p><p> </p><p>He’s not good at this shit. Kurosaki is stupidly excellent with words. </p><p> </p><p>Resignation claws up his spine and he swallows around it. Because, technically, as much as he’s loathed to admit it, Ichigo is the stronger of the pair and he did bring Grimmjow an <em> offering</em>. Grimmjow may have done it first, but he… </p><p> </p><p>Ichigo doesn’t know what Grimmjow was doing when he brought him that hollow, doesn’t know Grimmjow was essentially <em> courting </em> him. And Grimmjow didn’t expect him to know. For all Ichigo claims to be one - partially one - he doesn’t understand anything about what it <em> means. </em> Grimmjow didn’t intend it to do anything other than rile Kurosaki.</p><p> </p><p>Which he <em> did. </em>Grimmjow’s not fucking blind. Kurosaki fucking lapped it up. </p><p> </p><p>And Grimmjow let him off the hook.</p><p> </p><p>Clearly he made a mistake. </p><p> </p><p>Ichigo thought the could just.. <em> Reverse </em>how this works, and who knows, maybe he can, because Grimmjow didn’t follow through.</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo brought <em> him </em> an offering and he ate it. Because he’s stupid. He shoulda drawn Pantera and stabbed the smug motherfucker. </p><p> </p><p>But he didn’t. </p><p> </p><p>He <em> accepted. </em>It’s Ichigo’s right if that's what he wants. And Ichigo’s going to collect.</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow’s shoulders hitch up a notch and he doesn’t reach for his clothes. He’ll still fight if Ichigo tries - he always does, no matter how many times Aizen carved him up or forced him down with nothing but the weight of his spiritual pressure. He always does. Ichigo…. Ichigo can do the same thing. Is <em> stronger </em>than Aizen.</p><p> </p><p>But he… he had <em> wanted this</em>. He wanted Ichigo to want him. And now that he can have him. </p><p> </p><p>It feels like he’s the one back in the room with Aizen now.</p><p> </p><p>He swallows. It’s not his choice.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine” He says, still quiet - less angry, more…. He averts his eyes. There’s a small tremor in his hand, the one Tousen cut off, and he curls it into a fist to hide it. </p><p> </p><p>Ichigo narrows his eyes at Grimmjow again, confusion more than anger colouring his expression.<br/><br/>“Fine?” He questions, not understanding how they went from frustration to- some sort of resignation. “What does that mean?”<br/><br/>The response feels jarring, compared to what Ichigo confessed.</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow bares his teeth, “It means if you think I’m going to just <em> let you </em>, you’re dumber than I thought. I’m still going to fight. I won’t fucking roll over.” Even for you. </p><p> </p><p>Ichigo makes an odd little noise, and it solidifies into a lump of disgust in his stomach when Zangetsu hisses<em> yeah, we can take what we want, we're stronger than him now</em>. It makes him feel evil and he smothers the hollow down with a specific sort of aggression, thoughts racing. What the <em> fuck</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Let me- let me <em> what. </em>” He hisses, curls his fingers up against his palm and digs his nails into the skin, harshly. “What exactly- do you think I’m going to do?”</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow’s eyes narrow further and he takes half a step to the side. The bloodstains. The bed. </p><p> </p><p>Hollows use the word ‘offering’ to describe this particular ritual. It’s not. It’s a threat. Look at this beautiful hunk of <em> power </em> I brought you. I am <em> feeding </em> you because you will be less inclined to rip out my throat for what I do to you <em> next. </em>Now accept and spread your legs or I will eat you for wasting my time, for crushing that tiny sliver of heart I still have left.</p><p> </p><p><em>Grimmjow let him </em><b><em>go. </em></b>Ichigo isn’t doing the same.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck me.”</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo stares, Zangetsu howling in the back of his head, some weird mixture of laughter and possessive snarling. His thoughts grind to a pathetic halt, like wet meat hitting concrete. Stunned disbelief.</p><p> </p><p>“What?” The arrancar cannot possibly be interested in sex right now; no, Grimmjow had said he’d <em> fight. </em> What the fresh hell is going on- he thinks <em> Ichigo </em> wants that? Ichigo wants to lay down on the ground and maybe have a bit of a cry, not <em> sex. </em></p><p> </p><p>"No. Fuck no, absolutely not. I may not be the kid I used to be, and I literally ate a hollow recently and that's probably fucked up by human standards but I will <em> never. </em> I will never <em> ever </em> stoop to that level, <em> forcing you to do something you don't want. </em>Disgusting. You either want it or you don't, and that's fine. I prefer the honesty."</p><p> </p><p>Grmmjow feels like a sand dune has just evaporated under him, a sinkhole opening up and he’s being sucked down by the current.</p><p> </p><p>“But…” Grimmjow looks back at him. Blue eyes widening, his guard slipping. “I’m not a moron, Kurosaki, that’s how this <em> works. </em> ” That’s how it’s <em> always </em> worked. You fight and whoever loses ends up on the bottom. </p><p> </p><p>It’s…. He’s reeling - rage falling through his fingers. It’s inconceivable.</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo softens, tight shoulders and clenched fingers going loose and gentle and his gaze is- not pity, not quite sympathy. A little understanding, like he wasn't getting the full picture before. </p><p> </p><p>[When Grimmjow had been talking those weeks ago and had been saying who he’d fuck, he hadn’t meant ‘I want to fuck these people’ he meant, ‘I wouldn’t mind if it was them, because at least they won’t kill me’.</p><p> </p><p>And he describes his standards as <em> high</em>.]</p><p> </p><p>"No, it's not. That's not how it works, Grimmjow, that's just how it <em> has been </em> for you. And that's not right. It <em> shouldn't </em> be like that. You should want it too. You and whoever you choose. It should be good <em> both ways </em> and you shouldn't be scared or unwilling." His lips thin out into a tight line.</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow stares, feels something crack in him. Dawning horror maybe. He can’t find the energy to pack himself back down and hollow, the whole world has shifted around him, under him.</p><p> </p><p>No… No, Ichigo... Ichigo doesn’t know what he’s talking about, doesn’t know the things Grimmjow has had to do to survive. </p><p> </p><p>He’s--- wrong. “You’re a fool.”</p><p> </p><p>"If that ever-" Ichigo breaks off, glances away then back into blue eyes, speckled with teal. He is a fool. "You're strong enough to kill anyone who tries that with you, you know? But if you're <em> not</em>. I'll do it <em> for you </em> and let you eat them afterwards to <em> get </em> strong enough."</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow has Ichigo’s <em> teeth marks </em> in his <em> neck</em>.</p><p> </p><p> He’s strong now. But. Wasn’t always. Not since Aizen. Even now he’s not the strongest in these <em> halls</em>. “I don’t need your fucking help,” he sneers, tries to. It feels a little hollower than usual. Like Grimmjow’s not all the way in his own skin. Stupid body. Never worked fucking right.</p><p> </p><p>What Ichigo’s saying backwards to Grimmjow’s hollow logic. Doesn’t fit right in his head. This is how it is. It just is. This isn’t the soft safe world Ichigo comes from.</p><p> </p><p>“I know you don’t,” Ichigo snaps, his patience already thin; “-you say that like I’m trying to mock you. I’m not, alright?” He’s tired of talking at cross purposes with the other man.</p><p> </p><p>“Aren’t you? You’re just making me more <em> offerings </em> ! I’m not going to change my damn mind! I don’t need your protection and I don’t fucking want it. Don’t you dare fucking think I’m <em> weak </em>because of what I had to do.” His voice cracks, just barely right at the end and it throws him the rest off the way off guard. His jaw clamps shut, teeth grinding together. </p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow’s said too much. Is saying too much, can’t seem to get his mouth to stop running. There’s so much <em> fucking </em>emotion and it makes him feel sick. Feel hands crawling all over him, teeth in his neck. Vile. </p><p> </p><p>He <em> wanted this</em>. Now that he has it... <em> I don’t like this anymore.  </em></p><p> </p><p>He turns, shoulder to Ichigo, unwilling to place his back to him. He can’t look Kurosaki in the eye. It’s taking everything he has not to hunch forward into himself. Make himself small. He feels like prey.</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo lifts his hands and runs his fingers through his hair, rough. He feels very small, (he can peer over the sinks in the bathrooms, though, head and shoulders visible in the mirrors) and he grits his teeth tightly against the sensation. He pulls at the strands.</p><p> </p><p>“You aren’t weak,” he manages, his voice sounds raw. He hates it immediately, but he can’t put the sound back in his mouth and do it over. “-That isn’t what I meant. I don’t- I don’t even know what you mean by offerings. The fucking hollow? You did that first. I just-”<br/><br/>He’d listened to Zangetsu. That’s what had happened. Asshole fucking hollow zanpakuto hadn’t bothered explaining any sort of consequences. </p><p> </p><p>“I know.” He does. Knew Kurosaki wouldn’t know shit about anything. </p><p> </p><p>“I would- I would never do that to you. To anyone.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re a shitty hollow,” He agrees eventually. Quietly. Still feels a little fuzzy at the edges. But better. </p><p> </p><p>“We’ve already established this.” Ichigo responds, dryly.</p><p> </p><p> Grimmjow raises a hand to scratch at the drying blood on his mask, nails catching in the crevices. “Are you going to go back to the human world?” <em> Now that I said no? </em> </p><p> </p><p>“Do you want me to?” It’s an honest enough question, in Ichigo’s opinion.</p><p> </p><p>“No.” He doesn’t. He turns back to Ichigo. It’s annoying. That he likes him. Not that he’d ever admit it. But, it’s… Ichigo keeps letting him come back. Keeps fighting him. Came to <em> him </em>this time, too. “I don’t want you to fuck me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want sex, Grimmjow. I swear, you are fully safe from me trying to fuck you, while you are covered in blood, angry, and not at all consenting.” The dry, sarcastic rasp to his voice just won't go away. He feels like his insides have been pulled out, and now he’s just sort of tired. And horrified.</p><p> </p><p>“‘M not angry.” It's just that that's the only way he knows how to express emotion. Anger is easier to wield as a weapon. </p><p> </p><p>He casts an eye across the smear on his floor again instead. “We should find a room with less blood. And my clothes are dirty.”</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, sure. You guys have like, wardrobes or what?" Ichigo moves to the door frame, waits patiently. His eyes don't quite leave Grimmjow's face, observant and - a little <em> too </em>understanding. </p><p> </p><p>"As long as you don't end up wearing something of Nnoitra's because I <em> will </em>laugh at you forever."</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow snorts at that, the sudden normality of Ichigo’s banter dragging it out of him. It’s okay. It’ll be okay. “<em> Never. </em>He looked hideous.”</p><p> </p><p>"Who let him <em> wear </em> that? It was <em> painful. </em>I felt like my eyes were being insulted." He shakes his head and steps outside the room, looks back- Grimmjow will follow him, probably, but he likes the idea of walking beside him, right now. Besides, he'd probably get lost. </p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow steps up next to him, arm shooting out to clutch at Ichigo’s sleeves for a second so he can press his forehead against Ichigo’s. It’s a sign of affection he used to share with his pack, before they were human shaped and all had working hands and it’s one they continued after. Even though headbutting Di Roy hurt. </p><p> </p><p>He stays there for a long moment, just breathing. It’s a silent <em> thank you.</em> His hands find Ichigo’s forearms. He lets his head drop to Ichigo’s shoulder, forehead pressing into the junction. If Ichigo wanted to he could reach a hand up, unobstructed to reach Grimmjow’s neck, or he could just turn his head to the side and reach with his teeth. Ichigo won’t though. He <em> won’t.  </em></p><p> </p><p>His hands on Ichigo’s forearms slide down to Ichigo’s own and he squeezes his fingers lightly for a moment before stepping back, an awkward throat clearing sound already in process. “Right. Yeah. This way Kurosaki,” he picks a direction at random and walks. Ichigo will catch up in a moment.</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo breathes out, eyes wide for a moment, almost reverent, and it takes him a second to follow; but he does. There's no power play in this, soft, and he grins and elbows Grimmjow gently. </p><p> </p><p>"So, for real. Who had the <em> weirdest </em> outfit. I gotta know." It's easy. There's no deep questions. He just- wants to keep the comfortable energy. </p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t like Szayel’s. His was skin tight latex and it sometimes squeaked when he moved. I don’t know how he got into it,” Grimmjow admits easily, as if there was no weird oversharing between them thirty seconds ago. He bumps Ichigo back anyway. “Whose uniform was the worst you saw?”</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo chokes on a laugh, mild horror--"It <em> squeaked </em>? Oh my god. That's - heinous." </p><p>He thinks for a moment, absently, then his blood turns a bit cold because he can- yeah, no, no. Don't - think about acid green- long sleeves high collar-</p><p> </p><p>"Yammy." He says decisively. "He looked like a knock off version of your clothes."</p><p> </p><p>“I just wear the standard uniform. Hakama and a short jacket. I didn’t like the shirt and I never zipped it.” Grimmjow grins at Ichigo, faltering a little when he smells the lie, “glad to know you like me in it better though. I keep meaning to burn all the old uniforms but I kinda like the jacket.”</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo snorts, but there's now - not tension, but. Well. They want to say <em> other things </em>and it's hard. </p><p>"Of <em> course </em> you like that jacket. Basically a torture device for poor sixteen year old me."</p><p> </p><p>He rolls his eyes, but he's still smirking slightly, mouth turned up at the corners. There's something softer and curious under his skin. </p><p> </p><p>“Is it because of the abs?” Grimmjow guides them around a corner and feels along it until a hidden door to another sleeping space shoves open under his palm. He doesn’t waste time in shedding said jacket. He uses the fabric to mop up the rest of the blood, scratching at the pieces that are too dry to wipe with his nails. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t stab me in the back,” Grimmjow says, chucking the wadded up fabric into a corner, “that would suck after I’ve gone through all the trouble of deciding I trust you a <em> little </em> bit.”</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo eyes the jacket, then the bedroom that's just been opened up. </p><p> </p><p>"It is because of the abs, yes. Also the rippling pectorals."</p><p> </p><p>He shrugs half-heartedly and wanders over to the bed, sits with a sigh and rolls his shoulders, grunting when they pop, but he smiles at the begrudging sentiment of trust. </p><p> </p><p>"That hollow better have been tasty, it was a pain to drag here. I can't make a garganta, I had to go the long way around." </p><p> </p><p>He sets Zangetsu down on the bed and with a blink goes from bankai to his always released shikai, a flurry of reishi particles that emulate smoke. He gently shoves the cleaver further up the bed, relatively out of the way. </p><p> </p><p>"If I'm going to stab you, it'll be in a spar. Boring otherwise."</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjows’s shoulders shoot up to his ears and he forces them back down and casual. Kurosaki’s not gonna try to guilt trip him. Unless he really did expect Grimmjow to roll over and now he’s upset he only got one bite in. And now he’s changing his mind about being okay with Grimmjow not wanting to. </p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow’s hands drop to the band that holds his hakama in place. The hollow was <em> very good, </em> and Kurosaki <em> did </em> work hard to bring it to him. And Grimmjow does feel a little better now that Ichigo said all that. Shit. He twists half away, finger’s flexing against the blood soaked fabric, agitated. He doesn’t want that. But the hollow was good and now he needs to either reward or repay Kurosaki. Nothing’s free in a hollow world.</p><p> </p><p>“It was very good. I’ll bring you something better next time. I’ll make us even.”  Because he can do challenges. He pays his debts.</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo blinks, narrows his gaze- "Shit. No- I didn't mean that, Grimm. Not- I was just joking." He raises a hand, smiles slightly and gestures to himself.  "Sorry to tell you but this entire dude here is an idiot when it comes to talking to people. If I make you uncomfortable just tell me alright?" </p><p> </p><p>He leans over and pats the bed a distance away from himself. "It's- I'm not gonna touch you ok? We can just sit. Tell me more about what weird shit the other arrancar did. If you want. You can ask me questions if you'd like."</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow swallows and nods, and when he speaks he injects his voice with as much venom as he can. “I’m not <em> weak </em> , Kurosaki. I fought. I just…” lost. <em> I lost. </em>“I’m not fucking weak now either.” He’s stupid and emotional and doesn’t know why or how to handle it. And Kurosaki can fucking see those chinks in his armor as easy as he found the chinks in his actual armor with Zangetsu.</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo <em> looks </em> at him, really looks <em> past the blue </em> and the pride and just- oh. Oh, they're <em> so alike </em> aren't they? </p><p> </p><p>He folds his hands in his lap. </p><p> </p><p>"I was weak. When it happened to me." There's no judgement, no encouragement in his voice. He's just - sharing. It's true, doesn't hurt to say. </p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow twists to face him so fast he gets whiplash. His first instinct - like always - is to sneer. Say something cruel and callous to hide whatever he’s actually thinking. He bites his tongue instead and when he speaks it’s with cold lethal rage. His hands are shaking as he fists them at his side.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Who.” </em>Who in their wrong mind would ever <em>fucking touch </em>Kurosaki Ichigo. Were they dead? Grimmjow could make them that way. He speaks with the discordant undertone of something possessive and <b>hollow</b>. “<em>I will take them apart.”</em></p><p> </p><p>Ichigo smiles, slow and half sideways, and he doesn't look at <em> peace </em> per se, but it's a sort of acceptance that took a <em> long time </em>to achieve. </p><p> </p><p>The protective--it feels that way, Grimmjow feels <em> protective </em> and isn't that whiplash and a half- snarl is... It feels good, like he's astonished. When he was small <em> no one </em>was surprised that it happened. </p><p> </p><p>Except Tatsuki. God, she's always been his <em> best friend.</em> </p><p> </p><p>"Honestly? Don't remember their names. I know their faces but not what they look like now. You- know my sisters? I was only… a year younger than them, roughly. I used to be a real crybaby before-" He stops. No - he's not going to talk about his mother. </p><p> </p><p>"It was some boys from the year above. I got really lucky, my friend burst in. They had me in the boy's toilets. They didn't get terribly far but they would have. It was a long time ago, now. It feels that way. But I- I was very weak. Physically, emotionally. Doesn't matter if you're strong, doesn't matter. It can happen to anyone. There's no shame in that, except on their end. Took me- a very long time to <em> know </em>that."</p><p> </p><p>And oh, he still remembers. He still feels impotent with rage. They had carried him in past the mirrors, to the farthest stall, and he had kicked and howled like he was an animal, not a child at all.</p><p> </p><p>He pats the bed again. His eyes flick down; there's a small part of him that almost expects to be ridiculed. </p><p> </p><p>“Are they dead?” Grimmjow asks. Ichigo speaks in a way that's very clinical. Detached. Grimmjow’s a hollow. He knows this and he knows he doesn’t have the words to say anything useful to the human experience. “You’re strong if you survive. You’re still here. You’re strong now and you were strong then.”</p><p> </p><p>He glances at the spot Ichigo gestures for him to join, and then back down at his bloody pants. He doesn’t want to take them off. Grimmjow doesn’t mind nakedness usually. He lived most of his death naked. But with the current conversation topic and the fetid curl of self loathing tucked where his heart should be, he can’t seem to get his hands to do any more then play with the black band. He doesn’t want to get on the bed with Ichigo’s offering still on him though. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s just blood, the sheets will survive. I’m sure there’s a ton of clean rooms.” Ichigo murmurs, but it’s <em> unbearably </em> fond, and he looks a little surprised that he sounded like that. Ah. Whoops.<br/><br/>“They aren’t dead. Bit of a struggle and they got expelled. Never had to see them again, but kids don’t- get punished the way adults do. ‘Boys will be boys’.”</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow doesn’t know what expelled is in this context. But ‘never see them again’ sounds good in his ears. Ichigo still sounds bitter about it and Grimmjow feels pitch black hate for these ones. </p><p> </p><p>He pulls Pantera from her sheath and mutters a release. Armor is not naked according to Ichigo. And he feels better with all his soul in his body instead of split in two. He sighs into the release and tucks his blades carefully away, stepping closer to the bed. He settles himself on the bottom end as far from Kurosaki as he can. He doesn’t want to touch in case Kurosaki changes his mind.</p><p> </p><p>“I had to call him Aizen-sama.” There is no inflection to his words, but he can already tell he’s not going to be able to maintain the same detached way of speech as Ichigo did. </p><p> </p><p>Ichigo bites the inside of his lip.</p><p><br/>“I don’t know if it helps. I’ll listen silently if you want but- he <em> screamed </em> when I cut him in half. When he realised he couldn’t touch me, he was <em> terrified.</em>” </p><p> </p><p>Aizen made Grimmjow scream, but Grimmjow never let him know he was scared. He grins sharp and savage, all his fangs out, <em> “Good. </em> I hope he rots. <em> ” I loved him. </em>He frowns and tucks his back against the wall, he grabs for his tail. Not like a lifeline -  he doesn't need it - just something to keep his fingers busy.</p><p> </p><p>“I dunno if it’ll help. It happened. It was fine. That’s how it is for hollows and I’m still alive.” He’d do it again. As many times as he needed to to make sure he survives. Subject himself <em> over and over. </em> “I was really bad at remembering to call him ‘sama’. I broke rules and violated orders all the time.” Got in trouble when he went after Kurosaki and his friends too - but Kurosaki doesn’t want to hear that part. Doesn’t want to hear about Luppi<em>.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Ichigo hums, soft, leans back as well. He doesn’t come any closer, toes off his sandals and tucks his legs up onto the bed underneath him, pulls his sleeves over and down his wrists.<br/><br/>“I hated being touched. I still- do. Aizen- made me ill, when he did. Touched my chest- I <em> hate </em> that. After the- school incident I- my dad grabbed my arm a few weeks later and I threw up on him. Even my sisters… I could barely hug them.”<br/><br/></p><p>He shakes his head a little, breathes out slow and deep. How’d they get <em> here? </em> From eating hollows and- to <em> this. </em> </p><p> </p><p>“They weren’t the only ones, just the worst. I felt so victorious when I- punched the <em> shit </em> out of the kid in high school who grabbed my ass.” He laughs, an empty sound. “The principal suspended <em> me.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>He drags his hands down his knees to his ankles and grips tightly. Looks away for a moment, to the side. “I was only touched if it was in a fight. Even my dad- he doesn’t hug. His affection is a dropkick if you sleep in. The most skin contact I get is when I’m <em> afraid of dying.</em>” </p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow could kill the principal. And the kid. He should say as much. What comes out is: “I touched you.” They weren’t fighting when Grimmjow headbutted him.</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo grins, looks to the side, at the arrancar. “Yeah. I don’t mind it when it’s you. Don’t know why I trust you. But- hey. I do, so. Make of it what you will.”<br/><br/>He shifts his hand, flexes the fingers. Grimmjow's wrist was cold when he grabbed him. Caught him. “I didn’t want to leave you in the desert, you know. I couldn’t even ask someone to come find you. No one would- talk to me.”<br/><br/></p><p>He sighs, but it isn’t pained. “You’re a survivor too. Strong. Stronger than me, probably.”</p><p> </p><p>“Aizen-sa-” Grimmjow flinches, caught off guard. It’s been two entire wars and Grimmjow still defaults to his title when hes not paying attention, “-he said I was just too stupid to die. They were gonna replace us, all the espada who weren’t Vasto Lorde. Matter of time, I guess.” </p><p> </p><p>He releases his tail and it lashes, uncontrolled. Agitation clear in the way it curls. “Can I touch you now?”</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo turns, abrupt, expression <em> fierce.</em><br/><br/></p><p>“Aizen can rot in hell, Grimmjow.” His face smooths out, after a long moment. “Yeah. If you want.”</p><p> </p><p>He offers his hand, fingers flat, relaxed. Palm tilted. He waits- he doesn’t <em> push.</em></p><p> </p><p>“I know I’m not stupid. Kisuke keeps me around and I can work out his stuff just fine.” Grimmjow tilts his whole face into the offered palm. Cheek where his mask would usually sit to hand. It’s kind of an awkward position for him to contort his back into, and he’s gotta hold his weight up with his forearms, but the contact is good. Ichigo has warm hands.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t mind that you left me then. We are enemies. Were.” He doesn’t know what tense to use. This doesn’t feel like enemies. And Ichigo <em> did </em> mark him, even if Grimmjow hasn’t reciprocated yet. Grimmjow’s bad with emotions, but he’s <em> good </em> with pack, and there is definitely <em> something </em> here. </p><p> </p><p>Ichigo shifts a little, onto his knees, twists his wrist and makes it easier for the other man to lean into the touch, gently rubs the pad of his thumb over Grimmjow’s cheekbone. His skin is- smooth, almost unnatural but then again; he hasn’t actually felt the skin on his own face in this <em> form. </em></p><p> </p><p>He wonders if he feels like this: silky-steel, soft and deadly, just. Hidden under a handsome veneer.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s my hierro. I don’t know how to turn it off,” Grimmjow explains, when Ichigo rubs at his skin. “Dulls my sensation too. Unless you stab me, I’d feel that.”</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo almost- <em> almost </em> asks if that’s why teeth are such an integral point of <em> affection </em> , if that’s why the urge to lean in and nip at Grimmjow’s jawline is so strong. He doesn’t, though. He wants to shift in closer, it’s <em> an urge </em> but not <em> instinct </em> , this time. Wants to tuck himself into the hollow of the other’s chest, and just- rest there.<br/><br/>He doesn’t. “We aren’t enemies, Grimm. I don’t really think we ever were.”</p><p> </p><p>“I definitely tried to kill all your friends.” Grimmjow cracks an eye at him, not sure when he closed it. “If I succeeded then you wouldn’t say that.” He braces himself and pulls back from Ichigo’s hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Tell you a secret? Most of my friends tried to kill me first. Sometimes multiple attempts were made.” He smiles, amused, (could have been successful a thousand times over, he could be dead, should be dead, Chad could have been dropped off the mortal coil, Uryuu could have been executed for beating a captain, for <em> being a quincy, </em> Soul Society is a fetid, rotten place with laws that have not adapted since they were first written) but it drops when he’s left with his hand empty. His fingers twitch slightly, almost like he’s about to reach after him, but he <em> doesn’t. </em> He lowers it, slightly, still an <em> invitation, </em>something like disappointment flickering in his eyes, but it’s softer, not directed at Grimmjow.</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow snorts, and shoves Kurosaki’s hand out of the way of his lap, before flopping into that. Head pillowed against thighs. “I’m not good with… friends or whatever, but I’m pretty sure that’s not how it’s supposed to work.”</p><p> </p><p>“Grimmjow, you’ve seen my friends. We are <em> all </em> batshit crazy.”</p><p> </p><p>“Please, none of you score anywhere near high on the richter scale of crazy that I’ve seen. Except that clown guy. Kisuke’s.”</p><p> </p><p>“You know the tiny one you shoved your hand in? The stomach? Yeah she used to beat me over the head with her sketchbook. Like, damn. Her drawings were <em> so bad </em> I think she actually set my shinigami education backwards.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know how affection works, Kurosaki.” Grimmjow points out. “I’m gently violent with you too.” And bumps his crown against Ichigo’s hip bone, pinching skin sharply in the process, as if to prove the point.</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo huffs out a breath of air, a slight hint of colour dusting high on his cheekbones; he hesitates, then carefully smooths his fingers over the ridges of the bone crown perched on Grimmjow’s brow.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want to be on the bottom.” Grimmjow says abruptly. “I… don’t.”</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo blinks, moves his fingers to stroke over blue hair instead. “What? You- you’re on <em> top </em> of my lap.” There’s an innocent confusion about him- almost as if visible question marks are floating around his head.</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow bites at the inside of his cheek, <em> stupid.</em> He shouldn’t have said - but he did. “I mean.” <em> If we have sex. </em>“Aizen was always above me.” Staring down at him with disdain from his throne. From the table he folded Grimmjow over. From the wall near the bed Grimmjow wasn’t actually allowed to touch - dirty hollow hands. Aizen was always leaning over him, sending pain and red hot fire up his backside. </p><p> </p><p><em> Oh, </em> Ichigo thinks, <em> bottom of the food chain. </em><br/><br/></p><p>“We’re equals.” He hums, digs his fingers in a bit to scratch his scalp, absently thinking about how animals like to be pet. Grimmjow’s catlike in his resurreccion, so. The logic should follow, shouldn’t it?</p><p><br/>Grimmjow’s hair is <em> soft </em>, silky, but the strands are oddly thick. He remembers how it looked in battle, like some sort of ribbon or banner: a declaration of cerulean war.</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow’s eyelashes flutter at the deep pressure against his scalp, and against his better judgement - or physical ability more likely - he falls limp, tension rushing out of him and turning his muscles and bones into languid Grimmjow soup. “Mnng, yer tryin’ to send me to sleep aren’t you?” He squints, accusatory, up at Ichigo. </p><p> </p><p>He nods into Ichigo’s stomach. “Equals is nice. That’s good. But I mean, physically. I don’t do that.” He blinks at Ichigo for a second, arms wrapping around the shinigami’s lower back, fingers finding his side, and suddenly he can very clearly picture Ichigo, his head thrown back, eyes falling shut and mouth open, leaning back with his hands on Grimmjow’s thighs as he rides him. He’s… so <em> beautiful like that. </em>And then the image cracks and he’s looking up at Aizen over him and he wishes hollows were able to vomit. “Not... right now.”</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo leans down slowly, drags his fingers along his hair and gently around the back of his catlike ears. He’s delicate, when he presses a kiss to Grimmjow’s cheekbone, then sits back up again.<br/><br/></p><p>“It’s okay. Also, I literally don’t have a dick and I’ve never had sex before, I don’t exactly have any experience. I won’t be taking the lead.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nel ‘n Harribel both don’t have dicks and they’ve never been on the bottom in their lives.” Harribel is very proud of it, but Grimmjow’s pretty sure Nel wouldn’t mind being on the bottom for the right sadist. “Also… a lotta hollows usually are pretty.. Uh.. intersex? I think that’s the word. Shit’s a lot more flexible around here. So I know a dick isn’t necessary.”</p><p> </p><p>He looks a little surprised, then grins, wide and genuine. It creases the skin around his eyes, turns almonds into half-moons for a moment. “That’s why you never made a jab at me, huh? Most people I’ve fought who’ve <em> known </em> have referenced it in some attempt to shame me. I like hollows a bit more, now.”</p><p> </p><p>He closes his mouth, but can’t get rid of the small little smile that remains, tongues at the inside of his cheek, something warm curling in his chest.</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow feels his cheeks warm a little and has to avert his gaze. “Why would I give a shit about what you got in your pants? Insults are only useful in battle if they <em> affect </em> the person you’re shoutin’ at. You already know so why would it bother you?”</p><p> </p><p>He smothers a small laugh, shakes his head. God he feels so <em> soft </em> about Grimmjow right now, what has he become? He’s turning <em> sappy.</em> “To answer you, I don’t care about being on top. Human’s don’t generally have the uh. Status problem. Of being on top or bottom.”</p><p> </p><p>He pets him again, both hands this time, threading through his hair.<br/><br/>“For what it’s worth. Thank you. And I <em> really </em>want to kiss you.”</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow rolls onto his back so he can look at Ichigo more comfortably. He’s fighting a losing battle with the purr that’s trying desperately to escape his stupid emotional lungs. </p><p> </p><p>“With your mouth?” Grimmjow asks, and it feels stupid, but this is… <em> nice </em> he thinks. He doesn’t want to ruin it with eating, which Ichigo might change his mind and decide he wants to. He scowls, fierce for a second, “If I feel teeth I’m hitting you.”</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo snorts. He can’t help it, it’s just. This is so <em> domestic.</em></p><p>He doesn’t answer, just bows his spine and presses his lips to Grimmjow’s, gentle. His mouth doesn’t move, just- soft contact. He brushes his hands upwards, gently cups either side of his face, not holding him in place, just touching.</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow doesn’t really know how to respond. Aizen never allowed him to kiss him, and the one time Luppi did it he bit Grimmjow’s whole tongue out of his mouth. Before he was an arrancar he didn’t have lips. Kissing is something he <em> knows </em> about, but can’t really grasp on his own. </p><p> </p><p>He waits quiet, while Kurosaki finds whatever satisfaction he’s looking for, and trails a single claw carefully through orange hair in mimicry of the nice feeling petting Kurosaki gave him earlier. He kinda likes this kind of kissing though.</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo pulls back slowly, presses another quick kiss to the crown, and then sits up again, moves his hands back to Grimmjow’s hair and resumes petting him. He can’t quite make eye contact, cheeks flushed pink.</p><p> </p><p>“That was good,” Grimmjow says, “you can do that again some time.”</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo laughs a bit, soft and low, eyes half lidded when he flicks his gaze back to endless blue, and he bites his lower lip a little, runs it between his teeth. He’s never felt this way about someone before, not once. He wants to fight Grimmjow under the shoten for hours until they're both exhausted and then tell him all of his shitty little secrets, the ones he’s kept under his ribs for years now, tell Grimmjow about his mother, show him the pictures he and Yuzu and Karin hide under their beds because they're all three of them afraid Isshin will make a mockery of those too, make more posters, wants to hold hands and be <em> seen </em> the way Grimmjow really seems to <em> see him.</em></p><p> </p><p><em> Eat together, hunt together, die together, </em> Shiro croons, disgust and love all at once in his voice.</p><p>He doesn’t even care about being <em> naked </em> in front of the former-espada, there isn’t any <em> shame </em> in it that’s so inherent with anyone else. Grimmjow doesn’t <em> care </em> about his body, he cares about how well he can <em> fight </em> and the things he says.</p><p> </p><p>He leans back against the wall and closes his eyes, lets himself focus on petting him. Silky hair through his fingers. Blue.</p><p> </p><p>“You know,” his voice catches, he has to swallow once, twice; “-it’s been a long time. Since I’ve had someone I didn’t need to fight <em>for</em>. It’s- since before I knew what a Shinigami was. I… Have been fighting for other people and getting stronger for <em>other</em> <em>people</em> and it’s- I’m tired. I like fighting you, our spars are- it’s not some death showdown.”<br/><br/>He keeps his fingers loose. It hurts to say. He loves his friends, his ragtag group of allies that he’s gathered under his protection. From crazy Yoruichi to grumpy Uryuu.<br/>“It sounds weird. I’d rather have you fighting by my side than anyone else I know.” Not even Chad, these days. Too much worry about <em>accidentally hurting him</em>. It stings, but these days those bonds are- fragile. </p><p><br/><em> Broken, </em> Shiro laughs, but it’s cruel and protective, <em> they aren’t worth spit. </em></p><p> </p><p>Ichigo doesn’t <em> want </em> to agree, but, well. If he disagreed, it would be lying. None of them have his <em> trust </em> anymore. Sure, he’d still <em> die for them, fight to the end to protect them, it’s in his nature, </em> but; he would not want them at his back. Not anymore. Not after being abandoned like that.<br/><br/>Grimmjow isn’t like that. He wouldn’t have stayed away- he doesn’t think anyone could have kept Grimmjow from barging in and disrupting his misery. Probably would have thrown him around a bit, forced him to fight somehow. Restricted to human limits but- not isolating him, rejecting him.</p><p> </p><p>He has spent his entire life trying to protect people and <em> failing </em> miserably, and then- no one was there to pick up the pieces. Grimmjow doesn’t owe him anything, and he doesn’t owe <em> Grimmjow </em> anything, and that’s- it feels good. He doesn’t put Ichigo on a pedestal and then run away, refuse to look when the pedestal cracks.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> They could be really, really good. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow scuffs a hand over his face so quickly he causes sparks when his claws and hierro meet. “You thinking mushy thoughts about me, Kurosaki?” He sniggers a little, and then tilts his head to give Ichigo more access to his fur. The little spots directly along the back his ears feel like <em> heaven </em> when Ichigo scrapes over them accidentally. </p><p> </p><p>He shudders, tail flicking before he wraps it around his own leg to keep it stil. </p><p> </p><p>For him their fights have <em> always </em> been a death showdown. Losing has consequences for him that shinigami and humans - no not humans, they seem to follow hollow rules - don't consider. That fear of losing is embedded in Grimmjow's very bones. He doesn’t want to lose. </p><p> </p><p>It’s simultaneously humbling, enraging, <em> good, </em> to know Kurosaki never thought him enough of a threat - he curls his claws knuckle deep into the bedsheets and sinks them through the mattress. But if Kurosaki never saw him as a threat he also never saw Grimmjow as someone he needs to— not like Aizen. Grimmjow can't decide if he hates it or not. It’ll ruin the mood if he says anything anyway. </p><p> </p><p>“Sorry your humans are weak,” he tries instead. </p><p> </p><p>Ichigo hums softly, focusing on the tapered ears of Grimmjow's resurreccion as he listens, quiet and contemplative, words folding out from under the other man's tongue. "Maybe I am thinking mushy thoughts. What are you gonna do about it?" He teases, fond. His smile slips a bit, after a moment and he looks away, fingers moving to rub circles along the soft spot behind the feline appendages- more like a lynx than a panther, he muses, without the tuft but longer than most big cat's ears. </p><p> </p><p>He thinks of the girl. The one Aizen only wanted for bait and her pretty face. He wonders if she is okay. Human okay, not the hollow kind. Wonders if Kurosaki resents her a bit too. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t have anyone to protect anymore, ‘xept maybe this place if the shinigami decide they gotta cull us.” His pack are dead. He had kinda gotten used to standing between them and whatever stupid fucker they pissed off. </p><p> </p><p>The pack Aizen gave him is dead too. Except Nel and Harribel. No love lost there, but Grimmjow <em> misses </em> being in a pack. He’s good by himself and he spent a lot of time like that, but he <em> likes </em>being in a pack. It makes him feel less alone. Makes the gnawing empty feeling on the inside of his guts feel less.</p><p> </p><p>Kurosaki is in a pack and he’s alone though. Grimmjow feels like he’s missing something. Still, “rather be protecting weak shits then be alone.”</p><p> </p><p>"I don't feel very-" Ichigo cuts off, looking a little frustrated. Wondering <em> how </em> to say what he wants to. </p><p> </p><p>"I'm - alone. When I had to push myself to fight Aizen I left everyone behind me. I couldn't--I was utterly alone. Completely and totally, and then I <em> lost </em> it all and not only was I alone, everything was so quiet. No one came, Grimmjow. Not one person. My own sisters avoided me. My father wouldn't look me in the eye. I felt like I was some burden or disease, suddenly. It's not like it's hard to pop into a gigai and come say hello. I'll still-- protect them. But I can't trust them anymore. I can't. There's still distance. If it had happened to any of them…"</p><p> </p><p><em> I would have been there in a heartbeat, </em>he doesn't say, but he has to take a breath so he doesn't inadvertently dig his fingers into Grimmjow's skull. </p><p> </p><p>"I'm still pissed about it. When I die I'm not letting some shinigami konso me, erase all my memories and send me up as a fresh slate ready to be imprinted with all the bias of soul society, so they can remove all the bad blood with no consequences. I'd rather be eaten." </p><p> </p><p>It rings true, and he's a little surprised by how venomous his voice became, at the end there, but he keeps petting, in soothing motions--it's comforting and repetitive. </p><p> </p><p>He chews at the inside of his lip again, and then hums. </p><p> </p><p>"If they ever come for you guys, just. Gather Nel and whoever else you want--come to Karakura. They know it's my town. We can put you in the shoten and they can go through me. They probably don't want to risk pissing me off any more than they already have." </p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow stares at him for a calculating moment. Then punches him in the gut, sitting up fast to tackle him down and roll on top of him. </p><p> </p><p>He’s a bit lighter in his released form - more lithe and a bit longer. The added bone weight doesn’t quite compensate for the loss of pure muscle weight. He’s still larger than Kurosaki though. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re so <em> stupid.” </em>He glares down at Kurosaki, framing his head in a blue mane and gets distracted for a moment to decide that orange and blue look good together. </p><p> </p><p>Ichigo's breath leaves him violently, and there's nothing in his lungs to facilitate the startled yelp that <em> tries </em> to come out of him but sounds more like someone trying to make noise around a mouthful of cement as he goes down, confused and a little disoriented. </p><p> </p><p>“First of all, you’re already part hollow. You die, that fucker is already there. I don’t even think you <em> have </em> a soul chain anymore. You <em> stupid </em> fucker don’t you <em> ever </em> say you want to be eaten.” Grimmjow bares his teeth, goes to bite but decides there’s now a prettier way to do this and shoves his mouth back against Kurosaki’s instead, licking at his tongue and teeth and <em> pulling </em>(just a bit) at his reiryoku. </p><p> </p><p>Kurosaki’s reiatsu tastes like wildfire and feels like iron cast resolve. It’s intoxicating and he needs to pull back before he actually sinks his teeth in. He pants when he does. “You ever say something pathetic like that again and I’ll eat you my fucking self.”</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo stares, wide eyed, lips turning red and slightly bruised. There's a moment of silence, after that last- decisive statement, and then he grins, wide, beaming. It's brighter than his hair. </p><p> </p><p>"That was pretty <em> mushy </em> Grimmjow, I'm just saying-" There's a lightness in his eyes, though, an understanding, <em> gratitude </em>, and he reaches up and tangles his fingers in long blue strands. </p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow yelphowls in incredulous flustered irritation to shut him up, “says the one who <em> offered </em> his territory to me and mine!” Because of course Grimmjow wouldn’t find markings in Kurosaki’s room when the <em> whole damn town </em> is his. “That’s some <em> mushy shit!”  </em></p><p> </p><p>"Don't worry, <em> Grimmy </em> , you're special! Everyone else can stay in the shoten, you can bunk in my room." His grin is borderline shit-eating now, the remnants of the dry sarcastic teen he used to be, the parts that weren't worn away by trauma. He tugs lightly, works his way back up to the scalp and then sort of combs his fingers back down. Grimmjow's hair is just; <em> soft.</em> He likes playing with it, sue him. </p><p> </p><p>He can't help it, pulls him down with a firm grip, holding enough of it to pull but not actually sting, kisses him again. It's not as- <em> demanding </em> as Grimmjow's was, but that's probably because he's still smiling into it, shoulders shaking slightly with repressed laughter. </p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow growls into the contact a little bit, flustered and generally unused to affection, hands in his hair is <em> usually </em> not a good thing but Kurosaki makes it feel so <em> nice </em> so he follows the motion down to Kurosaki’s mouth again. He’s not careful of his fangs when they kiss and someone’s lip gets caught but it’s still good. </p><p> </p><p>Ichigo pulls back after a moment, absently licks blood off his mouth; just a smear. He loosens his grip, doesn't want to hold the other in place if he doesn't want to stay there. </p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow chuckles at the sight, and pulls back a bit. “Maybe yer more hollow than I thought.” He leans down to nose along Ichigo’s jaw to his ear and then under to his neck, lips open but not doing any more than scraping his teeth across skin. </p><p> </p><p>Ichigo snorts. Rolls his eyes. Snorts again and then lifts one hand to his face, settles it over his eyes and laughs for a minute, other hand resting at the back of Grimmjow's head before his fit of giggles is interrupted by a hitching little breath, not quite the beginnings of a moan but close. His skin is sensitive, <em> does not </em> have a hierro, as far as he's aware. </p><p> </p><p>When Grimmjow finds the spot - the matching one to the teeth marks in his own neck -  he bites. Fangs part skin like an overripe peach, and then he can’t help but to sink his teeth deeper. He could shear all the way through the muscle and bone in this form but that’s not the point of this exercise. Blood coats the inside of his mouth and he laps greedily at it, sand paper rough tongue scraping across the unmarred skin.  </p><p> </p><p>Ichigo marked him <em> first anyway </em>so he should’ve expected this. Grimmjow doesn’t do shit by half. </p><p> </p><p>Ichigo's right leg kicks a bit on instinct -- oh, that's- that's <em> something dangerous </em> -- a rough little gasp leaving his mouth before a semi-pained (is it pain or arousal or both, oh God it's both, <em> fuck </em> his inner voice was right he <em> knew </em> a bite from Grimmjow would be) groan slides out. Low and pitchy. He moves his hands to armor plated shoulders, reassuring himself that it's <em> fine </em> Grimmjow isn't <em> actually naked </em> and it's armor so he can't feel the way Ichigo's hands tremble and his fingers squeeze out of rhythm. </p><p> </p><p>Shit. He <em> is </em> more hollow than he thought. Or he's just- a bit fucked up. Equal odds, but there's a difference between a human biting you hard and a <em> predator who can snap their jaw down and go clean through muscle and bone </em> oh shit yeah, yeah that's hollow, the rush of- interest, arousal, fight or flight; but he trusts the arrancar with a lot more than his life, at this point. </p><p> </p><p>He has to swallow down cotton before he can speak, his brain a bit fuzzy. "If you eat me I'll fuck up your inner world so bad."</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow rumbles a deep timbre in his chest, pleased at Ichigo’s receptiveness, the scent of arousal he can’t possibly miss from this distance, and rolls his body down on top of the shinigami under him. It’s an instinctive movement more than an intentional one, but Grimmjow is one to chase his pleasure and nothing is sending off warning signals yet. He pushes a knee between Ichigo’s legs to balance himself better and one of his clawed hands finds Ichigo’s hair so he can twist a handful of the strands between his fingers and pull Ichigo’s head to the side. It gives him a better angle and he unlatches his jaw reluctantly to lick a broad swath of skin. He doesn’t let even a single drop spill to the sheets below. </p><p> </p><p>When the pitiful healing factor in his saliva coaxes the mark to stop oozing he bites again, a little lower than the first but still overlapping and repeats the process. He shoves his knee up a little higher to ground Ichigo - or give him something to grind on - like the hand and the teeth aren’t enough to make sure Ichigo isn’t going anywhere. </p><p> </p><p>The rumble in his chest turns into an obvious purr - self satisfied. “Yer so damn soft Kurosaki,” he murmurs, lips still pressed to skin. He runs his tongue over the marks one more time and nips at Kurosaki’s earlobe on the way up. He knocks their foreheads together once more. Not so much a steady press as a lovetap. </p><p> </p><p>Ichigo's mind tapped out somewhere near the second bite, and he's vaguely aware that he can smell his own blood and it doesn't bother him as much as it should. He can't quite help it when his hips jerk automatically and he <em> accidentally </em> grinds himself against a knee made of solid steel, holy fuck, but it somehow feels good anyway and he has to grasp his mental faculties very tightly to prevent himself from doing it again, (and again, see how many rolls of his hips it would take to get off) instead blinking back stars from his vision. </p><p> </p><p>He tries to speak- makes a garbled soft little noise that sounds more like an 'oh' before blinking quickly. </p><p> </p><p>"Don't - call me that. My name's Ichigo." </p><p> </p><p>Shouldn't Grimmjow know this by now? It's probably <em> not </em> what he should be focusing on but it's the easiest thing to grasp and hold tightly so he doesn't do something embarrassing that he'd be teased for eternally.</p><p> </p><p>God, please don't let him do something embarrassing in front of Grimmjow. Very attractive, deadly Grimmjow who can <em> purr </em> which is- adorable, and totally off-brand but. After today he's not exactly going to be packing his image of the arrancar back into it's neat little <em> 'attractive sparring partner' </em> box with no emotional context or meaning. </p><p> </p><p>(There really was no going back when Grimmjow walked through his bedroom wall, it's been downhill from there--that's a lie, it's great. This is so great, but that's probably the tiny little gay boy part of his brain who never got to hold hands in middle school and still craves affection talking.)</p><p> </p><p>Some small, <em> sensible </em>part of his brain notes down that he likes having his hair pulled, who knew? </p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow reaches down to plant one more lick on Kurosaki’s neck - because he feels like it. And then rolls off him completely, flopping on his side next to him. </p><p> </p><p>“There.” He says, very smug and important, grinning like he got away with something. “I-chi-go.” He rolls the name off his tongue, savouring how it sounds, and pays very close attention to Kurosaki’s reaction. </p><p> </p><p>The shinigami’s whole face flares red and his reiatsu pulses ever so slightly, something like delight even as he pokes Grimmjow in the ribs with a scowl that doesn't even begin to smooth the edges of his lingering smile. </p><p> </p><p>"Bastard," he mumbles, under his breath but achingly sweet. "I can't possibly taste that good, why'd you lick me? What are you, twelve?" </p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow’s half lidded gaze meets his and there's a small curl to his lips. “I wanted to. You keep blushing pretty like that and I might do it again.”</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, okay mister <em> smooth talker </em>, I know I look like a damn tomato when I blush, try again." He whacks at Grimmjow's chest absently, pauses when the backs of his knuckles hit scar tissue where the dip of his armor meets skin. </p><p> </p><p>He shifts, almost on autopilot, onto his side and props himself up with one arm under him while the other hand absently traces the line of the scar. </p><p> </p><p>"Why'd you keep it?" He can't quite bring himself to look up at blue eyes. </p><p> </p><p>It’s a surprisingly loaded question. Grimmjow wonders briefly if Ichigo recognises that. Clearly not. It pisses him off a little and irritation flashes in his eyes. “Fuck off, you didn’t keep <em> my scars.</em> What, they not <em> good enough </em>for you?”</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo blinks, confused by the genuine anger in that statement, but sighs and sits up a little despite the fact he's <em> really comfortable.</em> He shifts the collar of his robe, drags down to open the fabric over the left side of his lower abdomen- there's a whorl of scar tissue - large but not horrifically so. </p><p> </p><p>"Don't know why you're so weird about scars, Grimm. But yeah, I have a few from you. I think-- at least two left on my back from those nasty little elbow <em> homing grenades </em> you have, because you can't breathe without being deadly, apparently. Some have been healed by Orihime over time, some stayed because I healed them myself." </p><p> </p><p>He flashes a half smirk, almost smug. "If I'd known you had such a weird thing for them, I would have kept more. They don't show up on my human body. Also; why do you have such a thing for shoving your hand in people's stomachs? First Rukia, then me. It's a <em> thing.</em>"</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow blinks and sits, grins proud, “I am very good at killing things.” </p><p> </p><p>His hands slide forward to connect with Ichigo’s skin, pushing the fabric further apart to see the mark more fully. The scar isn’t as angry looking as the reiatsu burn across his own chest, but it is red and noticeable, with puckered edges and it’s clear that it healed closed on two occasions before being ripped open again - probably all during the invasion.</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo can't help the shiver; Grimmjow's hands are relatively cold against his skin, where it was being kept warmer than room temperature by the cloth, and the scar rests just under the line of white bandages that wrap up towards his collarbones, ending under his armpits. The more the fabric of his shinigami uniform is opened, the more obvious the bandages become, and he's honestly getting sort of cold, but he humours the arrancar anyway, genuinely curious as to why he's so fascinated by it.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe I do it for the same reason Ulquiorra does,” Grimmjow muses aloud, more to himself then to Ichigo. He’s never noticed he aimed for the stomach -- surely that’s something he should have picked up on? But two people are not exactly a good sample size. He pushes the cloth a little further away and readjusts himself, wiggling down the bed until he’s face to abdomen. His hand curls loosely over Ichigo’s side. </p><p> </p><p>Cautiously his eyes flick up towards Ichigo, catching his gaze for a moment before he leans forwards and presses his lips to the scar. It’s <em> his </em>mark on Kurosaki, and Kurosaki thought it was important enough to keep. </p><p> </p><p>He feels possessive. That piece of skin is <em> his. </em>His teeth part and he nips at it for a moment before pulling back and sitting up, insistently tugging at Ichigo’s top. “Take it off, I wanna see the one’s on your back.”</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo rolls his eyes and shrugs the sleeves off, the top pooling at his waist- his cheeks are red again, but in his defense he didn't <em> expect </em> Grimmjow to fucking <em> kiss the scar.</em> Is that a thing that hollows do? At this point he's willing to attribute it to all Grimmjow just being <em> Grimmjow </em> and therefore bizarre. </p><p> </p><p>Mentioning Ulquiorra though-</p><p> </p><p>His fingers twitch upwards, towards--<em> red fur on his wrists </em>but when he looks it's just pale skin. </p><p>The bandages unwind themselves with nothing more than a thought as he turns to face away from Grimmjow (don't turn your back to a predator) and he stretches slightly, the muscles under his skin shifting. He wonders if the freckles he used to have on his shoulders and back are still there. </p><p> </p><p>"Well? I don't remember if they stayed or not. I know I had them for a while." </p><p> </p><p>He knows there's at least two- the ones that hurt the <em> most </em>, probably, little pockmarks of scraped out flesh that filled with concave scar tissue. </p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow can’t stop the flash of instinct that has him pressing a hand down over Ichigo’s neck the moment he turns away from him. Instincts are harder to contain when he’s back in his hollow body. Ichigo really just <em> gave him his whole back.</em> He forces Ichigo down and throws a leg over his thighs easily, mouth pressing back at the bite marks he left in Ichigo’s neck and he can’t help but add a third, shallower one. </p><p> </p><p>“You really trust me with your back that easily, I-chi-go?”</p><p> </p><p>The shinigami gasps a little as he goes down, gets his arms under himself but- doesn't fight, <em> does </em> hiss under his breath. Bastard cat. </p><p> </p><p>"Why, you want to stick your hand through the other side of me to make me all matchy matchy?" He snarks, (<em> shouldn't annoy the predator who can touch your spine </em>) and shakes his head a little, turns and rests one cheek on the bed to stare back at the arrancar with his eyebrow raised.</p><p> </p><p>"I trust you."</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow groans, eyes falling half shut at the image, his free hand running down Ichigo’s ribs until his palm is flush with the spot Ichigo’s talking about. He could. It would be so simple to sink his claws so carefully through that soft hierro-less skin and add the matching symmetrical mark. Another of <em> his </em> marks. “Don’t say shit like that Kurosaki, cuz I <em> really </em>do. Fuck. Can I?” </p><p> </p><p>He presses his forehead between Ichigo’s shoulder blades, claws carefully tracing the outline of the scar on Ichigo’s front. He already committed the exact shape to memory. Would it be better to carve it in and have it match <em> properly </em> ? Or should he push all the way through and let it heal in the natural shape of Ichigo’s skin, formed by the push and pull of his muscles. Oh <em> fuck.</em> </p><p> </p><p>He pants, mouth open, and squeezes his eyes shut, fingers trembling over the unmarred skin. The next shudder runs through his whole body. The thought of Ichigo, underneath him, wanting <em> his claws, his teeth </em> letting him mark him up all pretty like he belongs to Grimmjow is delirium inducing. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be so <em> gentle.</em>” He promises and his voice shakes. </p><p> </p><p>Ichigo <em> watches </em> over his own shoulder, and his face gets steadily darker and darker- holy <em> shit </em> it sounds so <em> attractive coming from him, </em> like it would be <em> mutual and glorious </em> and fuck, fuck, there's a stupid dumb horny (it's fucking Shiro, the <em> bastard </em> ) part of his mind screaming for him to say yesyesyes <em> do it.</em> </p><p> </p><p>The space central in his chest twinges all the way through. Acid green. </p><p> </p><p>"If I did," his voice is slow, considering "let you do that. I wouldn't want you to make matching things. All of them would be different. No digging my insides out to match the scar on the front." </p><p>He licks his lips, nervous. "Not right now. Did you find the other scars or what? Can I put my clothes back on now?"</p><p> </p><p>He's not really in any rush but he feels like he <em> should be </em> , like this should feel wrong to him, he should be viscerally against it. He's not. That's bad, isn't it. He <em> wants </em> what Grimmjow is offering, somehow. The vibrating tone of his voice when he - <em> I'll be so gentle- </em> -shit. <em> Fuck </em> it makes his head spin and his common sense slide sideways like the skyscrapers in his head. </p><p> </p><p>He's never liked looking at his scars, not really--when he's caught sight of <em> acid green I'm dead I'm dead </em> he's always averted his eyes but now the idea of <em> looking at himself in the mirror, afterwards, after Grimmjow is done, shiny new scars in livid pink- </em></p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Grimmjow huffs, “yeah all new, pretty pieces of art for your skin.” <em> Our skin. My scars. </em>He flattens his hand, claws held carefully away, and for a long tense moment he doesn’t know if he has the self control to pull himself back. </p><p> </p><p>He finds the strength by turning his head and searching out the little pockets of scar tissues. He leans back, this time a finger pressing right into the little bullet hole divot. It’s an unusual scar, bullets are not a common weapon of the dead. They’re kinda cute. Grimmjow pushes a paw pad into the little hole and enjoys how it dimples. </p><p> </p><p>Ichigo keeps an eye on him; not quite wary or distrusting, but very aware that--well. Unstable. And that he - quite possibly wouldn't <em> want </em> to stop him if he decided to dig through muscle and flesh. It's a weird thought, that he <em> wouldn't </em>defend himself. </p><p> </p><p>He grins down at Ichigo and then drops both hands to Ichigo’s butt, grabbing two nice handfuls. “You got a nice ass here, Kurosaki. Gonna let me hotdog it one day?”</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo splutters a bit, then shifts with a scowl, reaches back and pokes Grimmjow in the stomach, aiming for the hollow hole and missing by an inch. The angle is a bit awkward, but he's not exactly wanting to move. He's comfortable like this (he shouldn't be, Grimmjow is dangerous) despite the fact that he's being <em> rudely groped.</em> </p><p> </p><p>"Oh fuck off." He half-laughs, can't help it. Grimmjow flicks from zero to one hundred instantaneously, from <em> let me carve you up and make you art </em> to <em> haha nice ass.</em> </p><p> </p><p>It's giving him whiplash. </p><p> </p><p>"You're just mad you didn't give me my worst scar. I'm not letting you <em> hotdog </em> me over it. Lemme up already."</p><p> </p><p>He doesn't go to move, or knock Grimmjow off his odd perch, despite the words he says. </p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow chuckes, low and deep and leans forward to nip once more at Kurosaki’s neck, squeezing that ass again in the process - he <em> can’t help himself </em> - and gets off of him. “You didn’t give me my worst scar either. So don’t go getting too up yourself shinigami.”</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo sits up, still facing away - glances down briefly and the whole line of his back goes tense, each subtle curve of his spinal cord under his skin shifting before pressing <em> out </em>a little. Like it wants to escape. His eyes blow wide, stuck on that disc of scar tissue, perfectly smooth and indented into his flesh like someone took a hole punch to his body and then put it back with less. </p><p>He looks away, and bandages wrap up along his torso as he sits up, pulls his shihakusho back up over his shoulders, rearranges it back to modesty. </p><p> </p><p><em> Thank you, Zan </em>, he thinks, gets warmth back and turns to face Grimmjow again. </p><p> </p><p>He points to the angry red line leading down the other's chest. "It looks pretty bad. Not fatal, though, just a burn. So, I guess it's not the worst." He smiles. </p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow watches him rearrange his clothes, catches the twang of <em>lossfeardespair</em> in his scent. He saw the scar where Ulquiorra blew his heart out. It is hard to miss, and everytime Ichigo looks at it he seizes. “Why don’t you let the woman heal it.”</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo's smile falters a little. </p><p> </p><p>"She couldn't heal it."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> HelpUsHelpUsHelpUs. Kurosaki.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He shrugs one shoulder, leans forward a little, rests his elbows on his knees, nonchalant. </p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow cocks a brow and frowns heavy. He doesn’t like Ulquiorra having his grimy little hands on Kurosaki. “Bullshit. She can rewrite timespace causality. She made an arm re exist after it <em> stopped </em>existing. She can fix a mark.”</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, you'd think so. Her powers are pretty amazing. But uh. Not this one." He'd been dead, and she couldn't fix it. It messed her up, he knows. Uryuu too. A whole, messy, nasty situation. Can he even explain? </p><p> </p><p>"The hollow in me has been-- it's existed since I was born. The scar is- it's my hollow hole, in a sense. She can't erase it without erasing me."</p><p> </p><p><em> The scar just came back. It's a decent lie- an explanation. </em>Urahara had looked so sad when he'd seen it. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It was burning black pain then nothing then it started spreading wider, his chest opening up to the gods, a maw of abyssal hunger. Acid green- </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He shifts again, absently examines the way Grimmjow's tail flicks against the sheets. How much sensation does it have? Would it be bad conduct to grab it during a spar? </p><p> </p><p>Oh man, he really wants to grab it now. He might die, though. Is it worth it?</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow fixes him with a long look for a moment and glances down at his own hole, fingers twitching where they rest in his lap. His hole is also his worst scar. But he doesn’t feel the need to hide it. It hurts but it’s also proof he survived. He wouldn’t want to get rid of his hole either, even if sometimes it does ache and fills him with such a bone deep loneliness he feels like dying. Like eating and killing to try to fill it back up. </p><p> </p><p>“Hn.” He looks away, to the blank walls of the room. His tail curls in his discomfort and he sort of wishes he didn’t have it. It’s hard to hide his emotions with it doing all the stuff it does without him thinking about it. </p><p> </p><p>"Is it for balance?" Ichigo has never been able to leave well enough alone. </p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>"The tail."</p><p> </p><p>He motions, eyes fixing on it like an animal with a moving toy, following every twitch and flick of the appendage. </p><p> </p><p>It's oddly hypnotic. His fingers flex. </p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow follows his line of sight and smirks, slightly amused, when Ichigo’s eyes follow the movement. He flicks it to the side and then curls it around between them, waving it under Ichigo’s nose teasingly. “It helps with balance. But it’s just a part of me. It’s a weapon.”</p><p> </p><p>It's almost--Ichigo <em> almost </em> gives in and grabs it, but his eyes flick up to Grimmjow's and he hesitates on those last words. With his luck he'd grab it and it would suddenly sprout blades and skewer his hand right through. </p><p> </p><p>He <em> doesn't </em>pout. Definitely not. </p><p> </p><p>Instead he hums and lays back down on the bed- today has been weird. Borderline bizarre, not one single turn of events something he expected. </p><p> </p><p>"Should I, like. Bring you hollows, every so often? I still can't tell if that was you flexing on me or if that's something I should do for you, now, to make sure we're okay."</p><p> </p><p>He furrows his brow curiously, looks over at the <em> dangerous, predator, will eat us </em> form and his instincts scream but all he sees is blue. </p><p> </p><p>"I probably shouldn't eat any more of them, though." He liked it too much. </p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow drops his tail on the mattress between them when Ichigo doesn’t take the bait. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t,” Grimmjow shakes his head. “That’s… I don’t wanna owe you anything. There’s only three responses to what I did. You didn’t know cuz you’re not hollow, so I didn’t expect you to act on them.”</p><p> </p><p>"What are they?" He asks, doesn't want to needle Grimmjow but he's <em> curious </em> and usually getting information out of the arrancar is like getting blood from a stone, but today has been <em> really good </em> and they've <em> talked </em> and. He feels <em> safe </em>asking the questions. Sort of wants to climb into Grimmjow's lap and mouth at his jawline while he answers them. </p><p> </p><p>No; bad. <em> I won't press him.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow shrugs and averts his gaze, embarrassment at bringing Kurosaki anything in the first place and mortification at not being able to carry through on his end. He <em> hates </em>owing anyone anything. </p><p> </p><p>“You either eat or you fight.” To the death goes unsaid. If you eat you fuck. If you don’t eat, you fight and die. Grimmjow’s not sure how he knows this, but he does. Eating anothers offering is an admission of submission.</p><p> </p><p>Two times now, one has eaten and the other end of the… courting?.. ritual has been left unfulfilled. Flipping the tables on him like Kurosaki did - bringing <em> him </em>prey, better prey - was reciprocity in the worst kind of way. Grimmjow shouldn’t need to tell him that. By all right’s Kurosaki should have done whatever he wanted to Grimmjow, even now he can see the way the shinigami is looking at him and knows viscerally that his instincts are still demanding that of him.</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow’s instincts are similarly in turmoil. Some part of his hind brain is screeching at him to <em> reward him didn’t he do so good, brought you such tasty prey, you gotta, you gotta or he’s gonna-- </em> </p><p> </p><p>(<em> Grimmjow~ Don’t be like that, don’t you remember how this </em> <b> <em>always </em> </b> <em> ends for you?) </em></p><p>
  <em> (Must you fight every time?) </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He’s not panicked, Ichigo already <em> said </em> it was okay. He said it’s fine. “I’ll bring you something else - something good - and then we don’t talk about it again.” His head snaps up, gaze narrow and fierce, blue eyes glowing with reiatsu, “ <em> ever again.</em> You don’t mention this to Nel or <em> anyone </em> or I swear I will put you in the ground Kurosaki.”</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo pauses, eyes flicking over every part of Grimmjow's face. </p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry, then. I-" he hesitates, not afraid but-concerned, "didn't realise doing that would be… Bad. Like I said, I'm not shinigami but I'm not really hollow either. It's - I don't get <em> all </em> the instincts. If I do something wrong, you have to tell me."</p><p> </p><p>He pokes the tail resting between them on the bed, wonders how many little interlocking armor plates it must have, to still be so flexible. </p><p> </p><p>"You don't owe me anything, Grimmjow. I'm serious, that's how you feel, right? For me, it was just a gift. You don't have to give back."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Not just a gift but- admission, he wanted to reciprocate and prove himself, that he's not shinigami but really he just made a spectacle of how very shinigami he can be sometimes.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He grimaces a bit. "Also, uh. Nel's the one who came to meet me at your front door equivalent."</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow bares his teeth in a snarl, but it becomes a grimace, then a hard blink and he glances down and away, shoulders slumping in a way that could be assumed to be defeat. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah I do Kurosaki.” His teeth click together, and he reaches for his tail again, palm slamming down on the twitching tapered end of it, like pinning a mouse. If there wasn’t a soft mattress under it he might have crushed some of the fragile vertebra under the force. </p><p> </p><p>He tilts his head, flashing the red mark on his neck. “Yer instincts weren’t wrong.”</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo reaches out, gentle, runs his fingers over the inside of Grimmjow's wrist where it pins his own tail. </p><p> </p><p>"Maybe, but they've made you unhappy, so they <em> feel </em> pretty wrong. That's just my mushy shinigami-human nature, though." It's not quite a joke, but he does <em> try </em> to lift the suddenly sort of <em> morose </em> air with the humour of it, of his existence as so many things. </p><p> </p><p>He looks up from under his lashes, shifts a bit and stretches one leg, still laying down. It slides off the bed and dangles halfway to the floor, but he doesn't care. </p><p> </p><p>"You've definitely given me more bites. If it's about the principle of the thing, I can fake a limp when I leave? I'm sure she'll be very impressed and not question you at all."</p><p> </p><p>“‘S not how this works, Kurosaki.” He’ll just have to deal with her worsened opinion of him. Not like he cares anyway. She can think what she wants. He shrugs a shoulder and plays it cool, releasing his tail and pulling his hand back from Kurosaki. “Your instincts are fine. You did better.” Better than me.</p><p> </p><p>He meets Kurosaki’s gaze and then traces over the light splatter of freckles on his cheeks. It wouldn’t be hard to lean into his instincts, Kurosaki is <em> strong </em> and he’s merciful in a way hollows usually aren’t. He’s kind of perfect and isn’t that the fucking kicker. Grimmjow doesn’t think he’d even take a bite if Ichigo asked him not to; Kurosaki is stupid and noble like that. It’s once in <em> never </em> that a potential partner has met all of his standards, properly, even that small little one that Grimmjow pretends he doesn’t have that says he wants his partner to be <em> nice. </em>Yuck, he’s growing fucking soft. </p><p> </p><p>Something sick curls up his throat and he swallows around it. But <em> you owe him, he offered, you ate, you owe him didn’t he do so good, treat you so good? You gonna turn him down? Pathetic pathetic bad stupid, reward him. Before he leaves and finds someone else, you gotta.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow reaches out a hand cautiously, fingers curling around the wrist still hanging between them over his tail. He makes an attempt at a steady breath and tugs Ichigo up. The roll into his instincts is near dissociative, like slipping to the side. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Good good good you want this you do you fucking do.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Grimmjow-" </p><p> </p><p>His weight drops to the mattress - <em> look at how kind he is letting you be on a proper mattress so kind and generous - </em> and guides Ichigo over him, purr - <em> oh that sounds cracked and weak you can do better than that do better be better - </em> rumbling out of his chest, blue eyes wide and head tilted back to give better access to his throat - <em> if you’re bad he’ll leave he will leave - </em>he weaves claws carefully through hair, should probably drop his release, Ichigo can’t get anywhere important while he’s armoured, and guides him carefully back to the mark Ichigo already left in his neck. </p><p> </p><p>He opens his mouth, isn’t actually sure what words Ichigo would want to hear. Aizen taught him how to beg. He could do that? The words lodge in his throat. - <em> Say please. Say it. Too fucking weak to say a few words? You want this don’t you? Please, Ichigo-sama. </em> <b> <em>Say it. </em> </b></p><p> </p><p>If he had a heart it would be pounding so fast right now, fight or flight adrenaline flooding his system and blowing his pupils wide and black - easy to be confused for lust. Arousal. </p><p> </p><p>"<em> Grimmjow. </em> " Ichigo raises his voice, tone smooth--there's something vacant in that expression as he's pulled forward and over the arrancar, and he hisses softly when clawed fingers tangle in his hair and lead him down--the bite he left has nothing on the sharp feral imprints Grimmjow left on <em> him </em>and he twists so his cheek presses against it, not his mouth. He puts his hands either side of armor plated ribs, presses on the mattress. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Please-” </em>Grimmjow’s voice cracks. </p><p> </p><p>"Grimmjow, <em> no.</em> You don't - it's <em> okay. </em>" Ichigo's voice trembles a little. He relaxes, slowly, cheek still resting against the bite, let's himself lay flat across smooth white armor plating, his heart fluttering behind his ribs. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s <em> not!” </em> Grimmjow hears himself say, but he’s already curling up small in his own brain - <em> I want this. I want this. I want this. I have to want this. </em></p><p> </p><p>"Maybe it's not okay, then; that's <em> fine you don't have to be okay </em> but you also do <em> not have to do this.</em> Neither of us want it."</p><p> </p><p>His gut pulls at him. Shiro is howling in the back of his mind, victorious, claiming. Why <em> wouldn't he take what's being offered so nicely.</em> </p><p> </p><p>Ichigo is not his hollow. </p><p> </p><p>“I do. I want this.” Grimmjow tugs on his hair a little more insistently. He’s not lying. He’s not.  “I-I already said please.”</p><p> </p><p>"This isn't-" Ichigo’s breath hitches. Soft. He wishes he didn't like it when his hair was pulled. </p><p>"Fine. You want this, that's fine, but <em> I don't. </em>I trust you, don't try and make me do anything."</p><p> </p><p><em> He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t want - </em> Grimmjow makes a keening sound high in the back of his mouth - <em> disgusting thats what you are just a filthy fucking hollow too weak and why did you wait if you just acted when he brought the offering but he’s changed his mind now hasn’t he, he’s gonna kill you now cuz you didn’t roll over when he fucking asked stupid fucking hollow.  </em></p><p> </p><p>"Grimm!" Shit fuck, he doesn't know what to <em> do </em> he's never been good at anything to do with emotions, not really, he's too blunt-</p><p> </p><p>He lifts himself up, straddles the hollow, cups his face in his hands. </p><p> </p><p>"I <em> do </em> want <em> you </em> , okay, I <em> do </em> but not like this okay? Never like this, I don’t want <em> this, </em> please calm down. It's <em> alright, </em> you're safe. You- you can stop me, if you need to, just fucking- make that matching scar if it helps but please focus. You're scaring the shit out of me."</p><p> </p><p>He breathes the last part, leans down and kisses Grimmjow's cheek quickly, sits back up. </p><p>What kind of <em> sound </em>was that, so fucking broken-</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He's made a sound like that before, his heart was fucking gouged out and he was empty- </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow stares up at him, breath coming a little too quick and shallow, he blinks hard - <em> its because its because its because this is what Aizen wants not Ichigo not Ichigo he wants what does he want - </em> “Fuck, Kurosaki,” he growls, normal, “I’m trying to do something nice here, can you just-” he reaches hands up for Ichigo, fingers wrapping carefully around his waist - <em> normal normal normal this is what you're like play the part better be better do better he doesn’t want hollow he wants better, more shinigami. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Can you just let me do this for you, I’m fucking fine. I’m not -” His fingers flex against the black fabric of Ichigo’s hakama, “- weak, I just…” <em> what words come next come on come on think think think silly hollow. “ </em>I’m not good at this kinda thing.” </p><p> </p><p>He breathes again, curls tighter around the instincts, doesn’t know where else to go he <em> has to do this. - You fucking want this you do you do thats why thats why you gotta what where are you going to find someone better? Gonna be </em> <b> <em>alone</em> </b> <em> alone alone alone. Lost Aizen. Gotta let him let him keep him. Don’t leave me please, I can be what you want - “ </em>I’m trying.” </p><p> </p><p>He slides his hands carefully up Ichigo’s side and then moves to his arms, his shoulder, sliding up the skin until he can weave his fingers together behind Ichigo’s neck and gently guide him back down, lifting himself slightly under Ichigo to bring him back close to his lips, his mark. </p><p> </p><p>Ichigo's eyelids flutter closed, his chest feeling tight all of a sudden, full and pressed outwards in force. He wants- to believe it but Grimmjow said <em> I can't do that, can't, I don't want to be on the- </em> and this <em> feels tastes like submission.</em> </p><p> </p><p>He reaches back in his mind, Shiro makes a strangled little low noise when he grips down on all the things that make black sclera and gold eyes and pulls it forward, leaves the personality behind; Shiro is <em> confused what King no I'm you don't leave me- </em> it's fine it's fine I won't I just need you to stop twisting for a second let me have them untainted-</p><p> </p><p>He croons, low and sweet, a fluttering animalistic trill he didn't think he could physically make, presses a closed-mouth kiss to the bite he left on Grimmjow.</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow shudders underneath him - shivers <em> in pleasure that’s what that is not disgust no it isn’t. You gotta believe it, gotta believe the lie too. What one kiss? That’s all you can handle? Weak. </em> Revulsion curls thick in his hole it feels like Aizen. Aizen biting through him. Marking him so everyone could see how <em> pathetic and small the sexta is. </em>He moans instead of sobs, a soft breathy noise.</p><p> </p><p>Hollows are trained to find chinks in armor and exploit them. It’s the only way they can survive and Grimmjow is <em> good </em> at that, so good. He leans forward so carefully to brush his lips against Ichigo’s - a kiss. Ichigo likes that. A soft press of lips - no teeth, just careful and <em> soft.</em> </p><p> </p><p>“Please,” he breathes against Ichigo’s lips. “I want this, I -” <em> promise promise promise say it say it you do this is better than you deserve you filthy little fucking liar.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Ichigo shifts, winds his arms around Grimmjow's waist, braces his knees on the bed and pulls smoothly, til they're sitting up, Ichigo resting back on his knees and on Grimmjow's thighs. He keeps them close, twists to press his face into the dip between prominent collarbones. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> King you gotta stop you don't want this let me hold them let me handle them you're not made to take this in the information can't be translated except through me you'll OPEN IT UP. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He runs his fingers down the space where Grimmjow's spine would be easy to touch if not for the armor, it's still pitted and smooth with divots for each bump but he aches for skin in that moment. </p><p> </p><p>Rests his hands a little lower. Safer. Either side of the waist. </p><p> </p><p>"<em> We are equals, </em>" he purrs, echoes in his voice, his eyes are still closed. He's scared to open them, he feels fractured, his sense of smell is heightened but his touch is dulled, like an extra layer of skin has settled over his body, washing him out in shades of pale ivory.</p><p> </p><p>"<em> I told you. Told you- </em>" is he still speaking with actual words because he can feel his throat hum and vibrate and flex oddly-</p><p> </p><p>"<em> I respect you. </em>"</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow forces his eyes open and isn’t sure when he closed them. Ichigo is speaking hollow words but they have no meaning. Shinigami words that don’t translate into a hollow tongue. The claws at his back are unmistakably a threat, though. </p><p> </p><p><em> He respects you isn’t that cute, disgusting hollow like you doesn’t deserve respect you don’t deserve something as good as that but but but you can use that you can its what you want right? You said you said you said - </em> Pantera digs her claws in, she’s the sharp one, the lethal one, the cold emotionless pit, the mask, the hole, the one that handles it when Grimmjow (soft human he used to be a boy, the happy kind) can’t - <em> too weak you’re so fucking weak, Aizen said it. Don’t you remember? Do you? </em></p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t want to. He isn’t sure how many times it happened, but enough that it stuck. Aizen carved the very words into his sword, his soul with that rock of his. </p><p> </p><p>(Filthy little animal, this is what you deserve, nothing more. What? You want kindness? Don’t you remember?)</p><p>(Do you? You don’t <em> deserve </em> anything. Greedy slut. Aren’t I already so kind as to give you my cock?)</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow purrs back, presses himself closer to Ichigo with a roll of his spine. He cocks his head to the side and nuzzles across Ichigo’s jaw, a happy croon accompanying the action. “<em> Yes, I know. Please.” Please please please </em> <b>stop</b><em>.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Ichigo pulls harder, Shiro screams. He doesn't pay attention. He feels good and strong buried in the centre of the warmth of- is this how Shiro feels all the time, why is he so violent it feels like safety and knowledge and power. </p><p> </p><p>His wrists start to itch, his fingers feel heavier, he doesn't care. </p><p> </p><p>"<em> You're stronger than this </em>," his mouth doesn't even need to open. The tendons in his neck jump. </p><p>"Grimmjow," he breathes, then his lips seal together again, "<em> you-- I trust you, no one else deserves it, no one else has earned it, you're my equal, I trust you. You never say please you take what you want and expect to be stopped if it's bad. Come back, see your power? </em>" </p><p> </p><p>His ankles itch next, he's vaguely aware of fabric shifting around him and over him, the bandages sink into his skin and he feels smooth, flat chested- </p><p> </p><p>The scar tissue he's always so hyper-aware of shifts. </p><p> </p><p><em> Oh, fuck </em>, Shiro says. Ichigo doesn't know why. </p><p> </p><p>"<em> Equals, </em> " it feels right in his chest where the sound originates, pulling around the dimpling growing hole of scar tissue pulling in on itself- " <em> Grimmjow. </em>" They can both be strong, equals, same level, same ground, safe, team, together. </p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow freezes. Small and terrified and <em> oh </em> how did he not catch on sooner. He’s done this dance before too. Been given a title he didn’t deserve and then slowly painfully had it carved out of him. The cattle brand on his back itches - burns. </p><p> </p><p>“No,” he says, the silk in his voice hiding his horror and weakness. <em> In the presence of a bigger predator stronger don’t move don’t breath be small be still be pliant let him let him let him do not make the same mistake again. “ </em>Ichigo, this is for you. Just for you.” Terror terror terror.</p><p> </p><p>Pantera pulls a long rivet down his back, her claws flaying flesh from his ribs and spine - <em> sleep little one you do not want to witness this. I am sorry sorry sorry. Let your heartlessness protect you. Do not feel, do not think, there is no humanity here for you. </em></p><p> </p><p>His head rolls back throat fully exposed now and he drops limp. Aizen liked him to fight, so he could be punished, and beg so it looked like he was learning. Luppi wanted a doll. Something silent for him to play with. </p><p> </p><p>(Not so pretty now without the arm and the title, are you, <b>Sexta</b>? No matter, there are better uses for a barbarian like you.)</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, so sorry so… I’ll do better.” It rolls from his throat, practiced. Instincts say survive. No pride in surviving.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> For you.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>No. </p><p> </p><p>No, wait. That's wrong.</p><p> </p><p>Shiro digs in and <em> wrenches backwards pulls pulls pulls it out off its still inside him, he's inside it this is Ichigo this is </em> <b> <em>hollow</em> </b> <em> , Shiro what did I do I'm, what have I done- </em></p><p> </p><p>The itching stops, bandages wind around his ribs. He let's go, claws receding into fingernails, blunt and pink, pushes himself backwards without touching Grimmjow again. What has he done what did he <em> do, Shiro help me I've fucked up I'm scared I don't want to be touched, </em>Zangetsu coils like a serpent wait no that's his hollow, cool soothing fabric flutters and the scent of summer wind there's Zan, he's okay, he's going to be okay-</p><p> </p><p>Oh God is Grimmjow going to be okay. </p><p> </p><p>"I'm <em> so sorry </em> ," he chokes, presses his hands to his chest, the withered flesh in his sternum just scar tissue again, nothing wider or more sinister; "I'm <em> so sorry.</em>"</p><p> </p><p><em> Ichigo, Ichigo it's okay you didn't know, </em> Shiro whispers, smooth like polished mirror glass, an edge of feral comfort, protection. Ichigo can feel hands on his thighs and he <em> almost did that to Grimmjow what kind of fucking monster is he, he just wanted to help, he liked kissing and touching </em>oh God don't touch him. Nausea churns violently in his gut, the acrid press of bile. </p><p> </p><p>Luppi doesn’t say sorry. No one says sorry. Not to Grimmjow. He doesn’t get nice words. Doesn’t deserve them. He struggles under Pantera’s weight until she steps off him.</p><p> </p><p>Fight or flight. </p><p> </p><p>Can’t fight. Too strong. Feels the burn of reiatsu across his skin, warm on his lap. Hollow’s aren’t warm, are they?</p><p> </p><p>He blinks. Ichigo? Blinks again. An illusion or Ichigo?</p><p> </p><p>Can’t tell, never could between Aizen’s illusions and reality. </p><p> </p><p>He flinches, properly, too overwhelmed to try and fake strength he doesn’t have. If it’s Aizen he’ll hunt him <em> down down down </em> and hurt him. <b>Run.</b></p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow’s hands snap around to Ichigo’s front and shoves him off his thighs. It’s too weak for injury, barely enough to move him. He scrambles back, hand missing the edge of the bed and he plummets over the side in an undignified sprawl, rolling and shoving himself into the dark hidden corner under the mattress, back pressed against two walls. He’s shaking. Shaking so hard his teeth rattle and he locks two hands around his tail, claws digging into his palms and eyes so wide he’s not sure he’s seeing anything at all.</p><p> </p><p>He whimpers, eyes feeling wet and hot and he <em> can’t make it stop.</em> There’s reiatsu immediately above him and he curls himself as small as he can. He wants to vomit. <em> I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry don’t touch me. </em></p><p> </p><p><em> Hands on his chest </em> and Ichigo sprawls, too caught up in a whirlwind of thoughts to brace himself for contact, lays on his back and hears Grimmjow land on the floor, then scuffle. Under the bed. Ichigo used to hide under his bed when he was little. His mother would come to find him. </p><p> </p><p>He gags audibly, has to sit up so vomit doesn't crawl up his nose, swallows it down with his palm shoved across his mouth, curls over his knees and puts his head between them, gasps. Sobs. A broken little sound for a broken little boy. He wonders how <em> ashamed his mother would be </em> what has he <em> done, ruined one of his healthiest bonds, that's so selfish you're thinking about the damage to you? Grimmjow, what about him, he trusted you he told you he opened up you're disgusting, protector of what? Protector of what?  </em></p><p> </p><p>Zangetsu pulses and he scrambles across the sheets, grabs the sword by the blade hard enough it should split his palm open on the razor edge, but Zangetsu could never hurt him, and he curls up tight tight tighter until his chest is so crushed by his legs that it hurts to breathe, eyes closed so hard he's seeing spots behind the lids. Shiro croons, soft, wet, warbling, Ichigo wonders if Shiro remembers when his mother sang to him when he was little. </p><p> </p><p>What would she have said when the school called home that day? Ichigo screaming in the office when the teacher tried to touch him to comfort him, Tatsuki with her little face scrunched up, standing in front of him wild and bloody, he'd bitten one boy so hard there was skin still in his teeth. Tatsuki didn't have a speck on her, she never touched him no one touches him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> But he touched Grimm.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow wishes his pack were here. He could do it. Could pull himself back together for them. Pretend everything was okay. Pretend he wanted this. He did. He told them he did. He told himself he did. What more could he want than to be ---- </p><p> </p><p>He can’t. </p><p> </p><p>He can’t say Aizen’s words. He wasn’t that. He <em> wasn’t he wasn’t he…  </em></p><p> </p><p>They’re dead though and it's hard. Impossible. He can’t. How can he pull himself back together when he’s alone? No one to put a brave face on for. Maybe he should be dead too. Dead with them. It’s better than alone, better than that hurt the throb the raw edges of his hole that threaten to swallow him whole. </p><p> </p><p><em> He wanted Ichigo to like him. </em>A little bit, just a tiny bit. So that he could pretend he had someone again. A little piece of an almost pack he could hold close to his hole - his heart - and pretend was real. </p><p> </p><p>He really is so <em> stupid. </em>He’ll never have something like that again. He lost it. </p><p> </p><p>Ichigo’s crying now too. Just one more thing he’s destroyed. He just <em> breaks everything.</em> Everything he touches. </p><p> </p><p>Aizen cursed him to destruction and now he’s sobbing under a bed and spiralling out. So fucking pitiful. He’s not supposed to think like this. He never has before. <em> Why does it hurt so bad!? </em></p><p> </p><p>Ichigo bites down on his tongue, worries it between blunt teeth. The skin breaks, floods his mouth. He hasn't done this since he was a kid, his dad used to make him suck on mints to make him stop, it hurt so bad to eat them when his tongue was raw and bitten. </p><p> </p><p><em> Grimmjow was one of mine </em>, he wails, and Shiro howls mournfully with him. </p><p> </p><p><em> I know, </em> Zangetsu breathes, <em> I know he was a part of your people. I know you pulled him in too. I know. I know. </em>Sing-song, paternal, comforting. He can pretend there's actually a father on the end of the bed, sitting and talking it out with him. </p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry," he breathes, soft, miserable, "I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry I'm like this." Can Grimmjow even hear it? He doesn't know. He doesn't know if it's even meant to be heard. <em> He doesn't like to be touched. That's why people stopped touching him. It's his fault.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Ichigo apologises and Grimmjow has never felt more miserable. What does Kurosaki have to apologise for? This was Grimmjow’s fault. He got greedy. Stupid <em> stupid.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Sometimes Ichigo wonders why Zangetsu doesn't just turn on him. Split him open and reject him. </p><p> </p><p>Follow the pattern. He doesn't deserve any of the power he clawed his way up to achieve. He doesn't even want it, really, he just <em> needed it </em>but what's the point in having enough power to protect when it makes the people you want to protect afraid of you. </p><p> </p><p>“Shut up, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow forces out around his uneven breathing. He’s supposed to be better than this. Hollower. Care less. “My fault. Now shut up.”</p><p> </p><p>He should leave. He should crawl out from his dark corner like a man and find clean non bloody clothes and leave. Out into the desert where Kurosaki will never have to see him again and Nel and Hallibel will never know what a weak, pitious, useless thing he is. </p><p> </p><p>He can’t make himself move. Can’t even make himself release his painful grip on his tail.</p><p> </p><p>Ichigo swallows around a pitiful little hiccup. Curls his toes in his socks. Grips the blade tighter. </p><p> </p><p>"<em> No </em>, it's my fault. You trusted me I'm - sorry. I should have stepped away and told you to stop."</p><p>He falls silent, after that, his eyes itchy and hot, and when he opens them he can't see anyway, obscured by black fabric. </p><p> </p><p>He hasn't cried like that in ten years. It's been--so long. It doesn't feel as cathartic as he remembers it being. Probably because there's no one to wipe his cheeks and kiss his brow and tell him it's alright, you did your best. </p><p> </p><p>He feels exhausted, suddenly, Shiro and Zangetsu heavy in the back of his head. Pressure that makes him feel less alone, complete and- at least they want to protect him. He thinks of Tensa, furious, wild, amalgamation, <em> all I want to protect is you </em> and wonders why those words ring so true now when he always had so many people he <em> had </em> to protect. </p><p> </p><p>He wants to protect his sisters, he used to want to protect his friends. Are they friends anymore? They go to Urahara first, now, after those lonely months. He thinks maybe they aren't. </p><p>He wants to protect <em> Grimmjow </em> and it probably isn't as much of a surprise as it should be. He hates himself so deeply, though, doesn't want to even slide off the bed to look at the arrancar in case he makes things worse, in case seeing him freaks Grimmjow out. </p><p> </p><p>Fuck.</p><p> </p><p>"I think I love you," he chokes out, derisive, the edge of pained laughter. Oh, he's disgusting, "I just didn't realise it. Fuck. I'm so sorry."</p><p> </p><p>Grimmjow presses his face into the floor, the bone on his brow grinding against the blue tile. Maybe if he pushes hard enough he can crack it. Break it right down the middle and bleed reishi out into the atmosphere until he’s nothing. Ichigo’s speaking - he <em> thinks </em> it’s Ichigo. Smells like him, feels like him, sounds like him. But Aizen's hypnosis is <em> perfect </em>, a total hijack of the senses. </p><p> </p><p>But never would Aizen have his illusion say something so… <em> so.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Aizen is gone. </p><p> </p><p>Locked up, he has to be.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t <em> lie to me, </em> Kurosaki.” He bites out, his voice raspy with barely restrained emotion. There’s a sick salty taste in the back of his throat. A lump he can’t quite breathe around. He sinks his teeth into his tail, cracking armor too easily and the pain is excruciating<em>. </em>His muscles stiffen and spasm, shocks of agony running up his vertebra in blinding hot pain. It’s an excuse to justify the sob that escapes his lungs, gives him a reason to squeeze his eyes shut against reality to hold back the rush of tears. </p><p> </p><p>He can’t let them fall. He can’t because if he does it proves <em> them </em> right. Validates his insignificance, his weakness, his worthlessness. Hollows don’t cry. Hollows don’t feel at all. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t <b> <em>lie.</em></b>  ” He says again, muffled. His voice cracks. <em> Don’t say that at all. Don’t. Please don’t do this to me Aizen-sama. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I can’t.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Hollows don’t deserve love. Least of all a hollow like Grimmjow. </p><p> </p><p>He waits for the boot to drop. For the reveal. He can’t keep himself from shaking. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> (Speaking to empty air again, Grimmjow? Don’t you know that no one will ever want you? No one will ever love you. ) </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Never. </p><p> </p><p>Will not ever. </p><p> </p><p>It’s like a loop in his brain and he can’t break it. He’s not <em> allowed </em> to show this kind of emotion though, it’ll get him killed, get Aizen to kill him. He pulls himself tight, forehead to knees, tail tucked between his legs and teeth and paws. And then he lets himself numb. </p><p> </p><p>Ichigo doesn't speak, he can't. He <em> can't </em> , his throat has locked up tighter than Muken, cold white hands pull around his higher thoughts. <em> It's okay, just breathe, breathe it out, you don't have to be here anymore.  </em></p><p> </p><p>He should leave. He <em> should </em> , his hollow is right. <b> <em>Lie</em> </b> spins about his head, Grimmjow's voice and inflection and tone.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe he is lying. It's possible. He's never been in love before, he could be lying to himself and to the universe at large. </p><p> </p><p>Something in the cavity of his chest curls up with a whimper, miserable and beaten and begging for one more chance to be nurtured, protected, encouraged. <em> Let it grow out of you like flowers </em>, and Ichigo kills it dead, dusts it and eats it like a hollow should. Like a shinigami wouldn't. </p><p> </p><p>Like a human could <em> never.</em> </p><p> </p><p>He craves the small enclosed space of his bedroom, citrus detergent of his clean bedsheets, the warm compression of his body. He needs to get away, leave Grimmjow alone, never bother him again--never cause <em> more pain.  </em></p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em> I'll take us home, loosen your wrist, let me move you, us. We can go home; trust me. I won't hurt you, won't hurt him.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>His voice chokes out of the stranglehold that his throat has become even as he shakily tucks his hand under himself, fingers pointed, Shiro does <em> something </em> that parts the folds of reality.</p><p> </p><p>"I don't lie." </p><p> </p><p>Gravity shifts around him as he semi-falls through the garganta, it makes him dizzy as his body loosens and uncoils, landing rough on his feet. He stares off into the blackness-</p><p> </p><p>The void <em> whirls </em> and his muscles seize, briefly-- <em> King, just sleep, I'll take us home- </em></p><p> </p><p><em> (He wakes up in his human body, in his bed, covers pulled up to his ears, and his hand twists back, under the fabric of his sleep-shirt, passes over smooth skin. No scar on his stomach.) </em> </p><p> </p><p>Ichigo says he doesn’t lie and then he leaves Grimmjow <em> behind.</em> And the ring of nothing in his stomach yawns so wide he <em> screams </em> - it’s edges pushing out, unstable, until he thinks it might split him in half. It hurts <em> it hurts </em> <b> <em>it hurts.</em></b></p><p> </p><p>Pantera curls herself tightly around him and helps him breathe through the pain and the tears. Distantly he hopes no one can hear him. That Nel isn’t lurking around a corner expecting news from Ichigo. She won’t find it. He <em> left.  </em></p><p> </p><p>When it stops he feels less. </p><p> </p><p>He destroys the room he's in anyway, breaks the furniture then the walls then walks a straight line out into the desert and runs and runs and runs until his resurreción gives out on him and then he forces it anyway, pushing reiatsu and Pantera into bone armor and a mask he can hide behind. That’s what a hollow’s mask is <em> for </em>, it hides the heart. He builds his from a crown to a savage angry visage filled with sharp teeth. </p><p> </p><p>He’s not sure where he ends up. His whole brain feels like static nothing. Instincts driving him onwards. </p><p> </p><p>Any hollows he stumbles across are ripped apart - a vain attempt to remind himself he’s <em> strong.</em> He's <em> okay.  </em></p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t feel it. </p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t feel anything. </p><p> </p><p>(He clutches at the mass of scar tissue on his chest. The only thing he has left. Of his fraccion and now of Ichigo too. He should never have been allowed to hope. Shouldn’t have even tried. This is where Aizen-sama always said he’d end up. Alone. Crownless. Unwanted.)</p><p> </p><p>He leans into his anger; it is the only thing left he knows how to do.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <strong> Check updated tags!</strong>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ichigo Kurosaki is, for the first few weeks, <em> slippi n g down </em> <em> down down </em> <em> d o w n .</em> </p><p>He is caught in intervals, vibrant and usual, holds his sisters close to him, weaves out of the way of his father, rolls his eyes at Urahara’s smug, shopkeeper mannerisms and uses the training grounds below to vent the trapped coil of panic suspended somewhere between heart and mind.</p><p>(<em>He twists, Benihime catches along his abdomen. Kisuke’s eyes spark in confusion, Ichigo wasn’t sly enough. The strike that catches him down his shoulder three days later has Kisuke pausing. They don’t say a thing. Kisuke doesn’t ask why Ichigo wouldn’t go to Orihime to have them healed.) </em></p><p>Circular imprints of sharp teeth overlap each other, hidden by the collar of his shihakusho, and smothered over by a wide line, where an ever-hungry blade chained them together like a flower crown of daisies. The scar on his stomach split open, and has healed again in a wide diamond across his gut. </p><p>He’s getting better at the healing kido Urahara agreed to teach him- <em> reluctantly, eyes searching, what are you doing Ichigo, what are you doing?- </em> and though the green energy sparks and fizzes and he will probably never be able to use it on someone else with any success, it gives him the scars he craves.<br/><br/>Overlap, conceal, distort. </p><p>He couldn’t ask Orihime. She wouldn’t understand. She’d do it, but she wouldn’t <em> understand,</em> and she might ask questions, might <em> worry.</em> Kisuke is a teacher first and a friend second; and before both of those he’s <em> not human </em> anymore, not since he was either born or sent into soul society, and that makes him detached.</p><p>And something small and undefined in his thoughts sobs out that he can’t get rid of them completely. He <em> can’t. </em></p><p>He can’t justify it to himself, not really- his fingers tap at the skin when he’s alone in his room, stares at his human body on the bed, <em> they’re beautiful, King, that’s why. His teeth and claws are glorious,</em> and he fantasises about making real, physical flesh match the spiritual, somehow, maybe he could mimic Grimmjow’s claws-</p><p>He’d have no respite or escape, then, and human bodies are <em> frail. </em>He doesn’t linger in those dangerous places his mind goes to.</p><p>He can’t. Instead he hopes Grimmjow is <em> okay. </em></p><hr/><p>Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez is fan-<em>fucking</em>-tastic. </p><p>He’s never been better really, he thinks as he stalks through the unending hallways of Las Noches, teeth snapping in the direction of anything that gets too close and hands folded comfortably into the pockets of white pants, sleek and narrow where his hakama used to be flowy. </p><p>He’s been back in Las Noches for a while. After a few weeks, or months? Maybe a year? Time is hard to tell in Hueco Mundo, but there is little in the desert for him to entertain himself with. Just mindless animals and sand for fucking miles. He’s sick of it. Nothing worth killing out there, not that that stopped him anyway, but he’s <em> itching </em> to sink his claws into something worthwhile. </p><p>But <em> fuck </em> does he look good in white. Honestly, the fact that he ever entertained the thought of wearing black - of wearing <em> shinigami </em> colours - is fucking disgusting. </p><p>A stupid little arrancar wanders too close to him in the hallway, coming from the other direction, one of Nel’s maybe? It stutters out a “Jaegerjaquez-sama,” head tilting in a respectful bow. Grimmjow lets his reiatsu detonate around it, reveling in the moment of destructive murder before apathy settles back in his bones. </p><p>He doesn’t even bother to breathe in the particulates, two rows of teeth, a maw across his whole lower face, remain gridlocked. It won’t abate the gnawing hunger of his hole - it won’t help narrow the expanse it breathes through him, near twice as large as it used to be. </p><p>He doesn’t care. Why should he? </p><p>His mouth is for eating and his hole to remind everyone else what a monster he is. </p><p>Clearly the message has started to sink in. His towers are vacant, any hollows he once offered protection to have fled or been killed. Nel and Hallibel do not cross his borders. One doesn’t care, but the other has long since fallen from her strength as the tercera. He would <em> rip her apart. </em> </p><p>But at least she might be fun about it. </p><p>He snarls, low in his throat, the thought of a fight bringing his blood to boil, vision to red. A hand raises unconsciously to dig at the muscles in his neck, nails catching on scarred skin he can’t remember the cause of. But he has many scars and this one isn’t special, just happens to be above the muscles responsible for his tension headache. </p><p>He kicks down a wall, shouldering through debris and into a courtyard he made himself. A quick cero to the roof and it’s open black sky. He punched right through Aizen-sama’s ceiling with it too, to let black faded moonlight peek through the white walls and down into the ruins.</p><p>His teeth ache for something. His claws spark off the hierro on his palms. There’s nothing for him in this desert. No subjects to rule over. No fraccion. </p><p>He <em> revels </em> in his loneliness. After all, aren’t panthers infamous for their solitary nature? What would someone like him possibly want with <em> companions. </em>Weak things that just slow him down. </p><p>Portable snacks maybe? But that seems like a waste of effort when he can just go and kill anything he wants anyway.</p><p>He drops himself onto a seat he carved for himself, flat on his back and legs hooked comfortably over the ragged edge of what used to be a peice of the ceiling. He frees his hands from his pockets to scratch over a particularly large angry reiatsu burn on his chest - the skin twinges sometimes and it <em> pisses him off </em> - before letting his fingers drift lower to carve at the blackness inside of him. He barely writhes into the pain, its <em> sensation </em> and he’s so numb all of the time that everything that he can actually feel is good. He’s felt worse, he’s sure. </p><p>He felt worse when he scooped his heart out the first time. The crumbling chains biting into his soft, fleshy hands when he tried to pull the hungry links free before they ate him too. They ate a whole hole into his stomach, and any bile left in his throat got stuck behind a white mask. Heartlessness gave him the power he <em> craved,</em> and he would have thrown it all away, all those <em> weak, pitiful </em>emotions for strength immediately if he knew. Why would he fight something like that?</p><p>Humans. </p><p>Ha. </p><p>He snorts. It’s a contemptuous noise, humans are truly the most pathetic of them all. </p><p>(Of course, everything has its price. Power comes at the cost of love, at the cost of belonging. But he’s never needed to belong. No he only needed himself. Himself and his… his… There was another he needed. He <em> needed. </em> He <em> needed them to fill the hole, the hole, the hole fill it up let me </em> <b> <em>devour you I need you or the hole is going to grow too wide and swallow me too, don’t you love me? You Said So. You said you LOVED ME. DON’T YOU? THEN LET ME HAVE YOU---)</em> </b></p><p>Grimmjow sits up abruptly with a hiss, and the claws at his hole catch and he spasms around it, feet kicking out and his other hand rending through stone. His teeth snap uselessly for someone who isn’t there, someone to ground him and hold him stable, reiatsu fluctuating, bleeding out in a burst that atomizes the concrete around him. </p><p>He’s <em> hungry hungry hungry.</em> </p><p>(There’s a reason hollows hunt the ones they love.)</p><p>He’s <em> so empty. It hurts. He’s not supposed to hurt. He made himself armor. Sharp teeth and claws and he’s ripping his heart out a little more every day. He just wants it to stop. He doesn’t want to </em> <b> <em>feel</em> </b> <em> anymore.  </em></p><p>He gnashes his teeth, the animal ones before his mouth grinding together in a loud <em> crackcrackcrack.</em> Who’s fault is <b>this</b>. </p><p>Instincts and rage in equal measure seethe and broil under corded muscle, iron skin, bluegreen tattoos like unshed tears, like ripped flesh, ruined tear ducts, scar tissue at the corners of his eyes. He’s moving without thought, instincts scraping and chaffing at his missing heart, driving him through the fabric and down the garganta. </p><p>He doesn’t know what he’s looking for but he has always been a beast driven by rage and instinct, why should he be anything else now?</p><p>The human sky - with its foul disgusting orange sunset -  splinters and shatters around him. <em> Good,</em> Grimmjow thinks, let it all <em> burn </em> and <em> break. </em>He hates it. Hates the orange almost more than the black. Why should humans deserve such a thing, a deluge of bright (beautiful) color when all hollows get is white and black and red. </p><p>He grins, feral and unhinged, behind his mask but his eyes are cold and cruel. There is no love in a hollow heart, just hunger. Just the urge to eat and take and destroy until there is nothing left. Until everything feels as little as he does.</p><p>
  <b>He’s going to destroy it all. </b>
</p><hr/><p>Ichigo stretches, spine pop-pop-popping and shoulders clicking slightly. He spins in his chair, stands up- he can hear Yuzu downstairs, singing brightly along to something.<br/><br/>He takes two full steps towards his bedroom door, a smile pulling along his face when the hollow reiatsu bursts across the sky above him, discordant, claws digging into stone and shrieking, the high pitch before the scream of engines pushed too far. </p><p>His smile drops and he shudders, fingers already pulling towards his pocket- </p><p>He bypasses his badge, grabs his phone, flicks open the group chat. It only takes a second for -</p><p>Orihime, questioning who’s on patrol, who’s available- </p><p>Urahara’s typing bubble pops up.</p><p>Two words later and his body hits the floor, hard, and he’s up and out of the window in a rush of shunpo, surroundings blurring at the speed.</p><p>He’s above the street; still <em> blue </em> but his clothes have changed. So has his mask- Ichigo’s mask has changed, often, in relatively short periods of time.</p><p>(This feels wrong, so wrong, what’s happened to him, his reiatsu, it used to feel like <em> honeybloodwarmthdevastation </em> and now it’s everything that’s wrong and off and the things that crawl over his skin when he’s uncomfortable and scared.)</p><p>“Grimmjow?” He calls, fingers tapping at the edge of Zangetsu’s hilt over his shoulder, eyes narrow. He pitches his voice a little loud, doesn’t get closer. Hovers, a little below, a little distance away. Safer, over the street, where an attack will hit asphalt not foundations.</p><p>Grimmjow sees orange, sees prey. It stands below him, at a distance, weapon sheathed. He doesn’t have words. His hole destabilizes and he hunches for a moment and rides the shuddering breath stealing wave of pain, blue eyes fixed on his prey, a snarl building in his throat. His posture looks threatening instead of vulnerable. </p><p>“Kurosaki.” He spits with all the derision he can muster.“Come to die for your pathetic town?”</p><p>Ichigo’s hand winds around the hilt, bandages slowly curling out, sentient ribbons to wrap around his wrist, but he doesn’t draw the blade.<br/><br/>“What,” he hisses, twists his knee, preparations for smooth movement, “-is that supposed to mean?” </p><p>There’s no <em> way </em> Grimmjow is that <em> stupid.</em> He can beat Ichigo up all he wants, they can fight for days and Grimmjow could even <em> win </em> but there is no way he could lay hands on the entirety of Karakura without Urahara <em> deconstructing him </em> and, now that he thinks about it, if Grimmjow went for the kill on him, Urahara might just step in and deconstruct him anyways.<br/><br/>Shiro sort of purrs in his head at that, <em> good strong pack,</em> and Ichigo huffs, flexes his free hand, pulls at him, and Shiro actually trills, empty hollow pride as his fingernails extend into porcelain claws.</p><p>Grimmjow regards him for a ridged moment - reiatsu a distorting pressure around him. He straightens slowly, head rolling on his neck till its cocked, gaze blank. </p><p>Grimmjow’s rage is always explosive. Volatile and unpredictable. He’s just as likely to catch himself in the blowback as he is to destroy his enemy. </p><p>Now though he is quiet. Bitter and numb. </p><p>“It took me a while.” Grimmjow shouldn’t even bother explaining. He doesn’t really know himself. All he knows is that he wants Kurosaki to hurt. Wants to tear him apart and taste him on his tongue.</p><p>“I could kill you.” I can kill and eat you. Don’t you <em> love </em> me Kurosaki? Wouldn’t you like that? “But you don’t care. You’re as hollow as the rest of us. Heartless bastard.” He shakes his head in mock fondness, tone surprisingly light considering how dense with vitriol it was a mere moment ago. “But that’s not enough to hurt you. Is it?”</p><p>First confusion, then a wild sort of swirling terror fill Ichigo’s chest and without even moving reiatsu swirls around him, bone white curling over his face and settling, draconic. He doesn’t release his bankai, not immediately.</p><p>“<em>Maybe I am,</em>” he hisses, low, dual-toned, “- <em> but heartless or not you shouldn’t do this. Hate me all you want, we can go and fight if you need that, but not here.</em>”</p><p>The ‘ <em> I won’t let you’ </em> goes unsaid, and Zangetsu thrums in his grip, Shiro curling draconic and lazy around the dark sections of his mind, pulls the misery that rises in his throat back, keeps him safe and calm and above-water. This is all wrong.</p><p>Grimmjow- he wouldn’t, would he- no, no he can’t say that, because sometimes he still thinks about tracking down several young boys, finding them and <em> hunting them </em> and flaying them open slow and sweet. Relishing in their screams.</p><p>That particular fantasy has been one he’s carried long before his hollow instincts emerged. For Grimmjow; what’s holding him back?</p><p><em> He wants to hurt so he will, why shouldn’t he? </em> Shiro hums. <em> He can, he’s powerful enough. Stronger now, than he was before. You can feel it can’t you? </em></p><p>“Hate you?” Grimmjow blinks, and his resurreccion bleeds over him, commandless. Pantera blankets him, dulls the already limited sensation in his skin until he can’t even feel the brush of wind in his hair. Kurosaki’s reiatsu feels like nothing to him. “No, no, I-chi-go. I don’t <em> hate you.</em>” </p><p><em> I love you. Loved you so much it hurts, look at me! I’m falling to pieces. </em>His hand skims over his hole, careful not to touch this time. </p><p>It’s twisted in his head, this love, Grimmjow thinks it must be, but this is what feels right. The knee jerk reaction. “I came here for <em> you</em>.” <em> You left me. So I’m going to make sure you never can again. </em>“But I need you to understand first.”</p><p>“I thought I’d start with the woman. The one that fucking creams over you, yeah?” She always smelled sick with slick. So fucking wet for Kurosaki. Grimmjow wrinkled his nose at the reminder, “How do you think she’ll feel knowing you’re more interested in fucking a monster like me? Will she cry? Will she cry for you to come and ‘<em> save me Kurosaki-kuuuuuun~!’</em>” He sneers, teeth cracking apart, fangs still fixed over his mouth even after his resurreccion.</p><p>His weight shifts, tail flicking in a distracting figure eight behind him. “Or what about the big guy? Useless shit nearly got done in by <em> Di Roy, </em>and that pathetic sack was barely an arrancar.” A sick feeling he doesn’t recognize clogs his throat for a second and he has to swallow around it. His hole twinges, again. “He’d crumble just standing near me! I’ll flay him. Would you like to watch? He stood by when you were nothing, will you do the same for him?”</p><p>There is a Quincy too, isn’t there? Oh, Grimmjow’s very <em> existence </em> is poison to <em> it. </em> “Would the other one try to defeat me? Even as I boil his blood? Have you ever seen a quincy die by hollow toxicity? Your local Aizen told me about it. Did he tell you the reason he was so interested in ensuring Neliel’s and my cooperation?” His eyes narrow, lethal intent focused over Ichigo’s shoulder as he searches out his targets.</p><p>Did Kurosaki even realize Kisuke held a leash around his throat? Did he relish in it the same way Grimmjow relished in Aizen-sama’s noose?</p><p>Grimmjow is gonna hunt them down like <em> rats.</em> Then kill them and sit around until their souls flop useless out of their fragile human bodies and kill them again. Crush them down until there isn’t anything left to return to the cycle. </p><p>Ichigo <em> snarls </em> because Chad, Orihime, Uryuu- they might not be as close anymore but they were pack once and- <em> and </em>-</p><p>He cuts it off, down into a low rumbling hiss through his teeth, black and red energy pooling in the centre of his chest, aching and so ready to punch through flesh and bone. Shiro digs his claws in, the impression of a lashing tail and saliva dripping off fangs, hungry, ready for a war of attrition that <em> we will win, </em> fast healing and vicious teeth. </p><p>Ichigo pushes down the bile that rises dark and frothing in his throat, that Grimmjow would pull those memories so brutally up and out, <em> acid green, prominent pale knuckles and dark nails.</em></p><p>It tastes like betrayal, like the ruinous gap in his heart where he still keeps all his fully realised, toxic adoration.</p><p>“<em>Orihime would ruin you,</em>” he grits out, when he can form words again; but he doesn’t know what else to say. Kisuke always keeps secrets. Grimmjow calling the man ‘your local Aizen’ stings, distantly, but he’s not wrong. Kisuke just has- <em> slightly </em>better morals, and less grand designs than Aizen did. Ichigo doesn’t finish the sentence, tells himself he’s too busy for secrets that don’t matter. (Things he doesn’t need to know.)</p><p>He hopes they don’t matter. He’s spent so much time building his trust back up in Kisuke.<br/><br/>“If you touch them-” he swallows down another snarl, infuriated. Why did he ever let this happen? He should have kept Grimmjow at arm’s length. Just someone to spar with. Nothing more, nothing less.</p><p>Grimmjow’s grin falters behind his mask for a fraction of a moment at Kurosaki’s cold choking threat, eyes snapping back to the boy and trailing down his face to the heavy folds of fabric at his neck. Ichigo hasn’t even <em> glanced </em> at the prominently displayed marks on his own. He didn’t even question why Grimmjow would make such an out of character movement as to cock his head to the side, even though it <em> clearly </em>gave more access - especially to someone as fast as Kurosaki - to such a vulnerable point. Grimmjow never bares his neck for anyone without being forced. </p><p>He straightens slowly, and blinks into the weird burning behind his eyes. He doesn’t like the feeling of whatever horrible thing Kurosaki is doing to him, and the shinigami hasn’t even drawn his blade yet. His claws find his hole again and they <em> scrape </em> the inside, he bites his tongue, shudders around the pain. He doesn't want to keep <em> feeling. </em> He wants it to <em> stop.</em> And it’s <em> not working.</em> </p><p>Make it <em> stop, Kurosaki! </em></p><p>He snarls, wordless, and he hurls himself into a sonido, forearm blades lashing out to tear into Kurosaki’s skin, a cero already building behind his teeth. There are no sharp grins, no snarling words, no manic laughter. This isn’t fun. </p><p>This is just for the hurt of it all.</p><p>Ichigo brings Zangetsu around, circular motion, deflects the blades with a ringing sound and then pulls his hand up and fires a bala into white cat-teeth at point blank range, dodging sideways and up, bandages wrapping high up under his sleeve, firm and reassuring.<br/><br/>“<em>We don’t have to do this!</em>” This isn’t the sort of fight he enjoys, this is never the sort of battle he’s wanted. He wants all-out without repercussions, where he can beat and in turn be beaten black and blue and lay out in the resulting crater and laugh with a voice joining his. </p><p>In succession, he flares to bankai, and then <em> further, </em> holepunch viciousness letting out a terrible, gruesome snapping sound before it seals and he is <em> hollow,</em> Shiro laser-focused and sorting through what Ichigo could not, <em> cannot </em>handle, just like they practiced. His mask shifts, one elegant horn seeping out and the markings change- he knows this, Shinji has told him, in recent months, but he has not seen it for himself. </p><p>“You don’t want this,” his voice ekes through the gaps in his teeth, soft, lonely, confused, hurt little boy; “<em> We can talk.</em>” Back to hollow tones. </p><p>He knows what kind of damage Grimmjow can <em> do </em> to the town, so many innocent lives caught in even <em> one </em> cero- he can feel Uryuu’s reiatsu closing in, abruptly, snapped out of the odd- hyperfixation he feels, all his attentions and energy on <em> his Grimmjow, MINE </em>- Shiro pulls it back, gets it back into the cage of his claws. Holds it tight.</p><p>Grimmjow reacts violently and with extreme prejudice. His cero snaps from his jaw, bony maw open wide for the barest of moments, his human face exposed to reveal a grimace, before the teeth slam shut again. The cero is stronger than the split second defensive bala. Grimmjow reaches for the retreating boy’s leg, claws reaching to shred calf muscle and maybe tear a foot off while he’s at it. </p><p>“<em>Talk?” </em> Grimmjow hisses, “Fuck you, Kurosaki!” His scars itch. His hole <em> aches.</em> Why why why. He has nothing left to scoop out, nothing left he can trade. Nothing more to give away for power. “We have nothing to talk about.”</p><p>Ichigo grits his teeth in pain, but as soon as the hollow hole formed, his healing factor kicked in. The deep lacerations seal with a hiss of white, bubbling liquid, gone as fast as it came. </p><p>Grimmjow’s claws are as sharp as he remembers. </p><p>Ichigo shivers, along his spine.</p><p>Fuck, Uryuu is getting closer.</p><p>“<em>Grimmjow, I’m sorry- listen, listen to me, you need to leave. If you want me to go with you fine, make me bleed all over the sand but I will not let you hurt anyone here-</em>” He twists, Zangetsu flicks up, along the same line as the red rimmed reiatsu burn scar. Shallow, just- he’s angry, himself, in his own way. Miserable, but he’s been packing it down and letting Shiro and Zangetsu hide it away from him, low low low in his soul til he can’t feel it. </p><p>Grimmjow doesn’t feel the sword carve through his chest, a complete lack of sensation and his smile behind serrated teeth is wide and wicked, “you can do better than <em> that.” </em><br/><br/>Ichigo gushes steam from his mask, in response. His hair lengthens abruptly when Shiro loses a little of his grip, reels it back in, but the orange strands stay long. He’ll have to drop this soon, or succumb to the monster. <em> God please, don’t make me have to do that. </em>If Grimmjow doesn’t leave- </p><p>Ichigo can make a garganta, half the time. Reliable enough. If he can kick the arrancar through-</p><p>Grimmjow swivels, dodges low where Kurosaki - stupid foolish boy - lunged high. This time the cero is aimed at the quincy, at the town. Dance Kurosaki, I know you want to!</p><p>He rips a desgarron out of the thin reishi in the air too, just a single claw of sheer blue force, and holds and charges it for a second longer than the cero, then lets it <em> rip.  </em></p><p>There’s something deeply, painfully nostalgic in Ichigo’s <em> bones </em> when he abandons his next attack, turns and <em> moves,</em> brings black crystalline steel up to block the cero- </p><p>Oh; <em> fuck.</em></p><p>The claw impacts him higher than the cero and hits him in the throat. He screams, sharp and piercing and for less than a second- and then he doesn’t, no sound, no vocal cords to make it.</p><p>The cero moves past the blade when it falls from his grip, chain hissing under pressure from the blast. That hits him, too.</p><p>“<em>HA!” </em>Grimmjow laughs but it feels like something vital has fallen out of his stomach when he sees Ichi-Kurosaki slip. That shouldn’t have worked. Kurosaki tore through ten of those in Hueco Mundo. </p><p>Why would he give a shit if Kurosaki can’t stand the heat?</p><p>He presses the advantage, lunging after the shinigami with all his claws out, driving for his soft exposed belly. “Careful Kurosaki or I won’t even bother <em> fucking </em> you before I <em> eat </em> you!” Words ringing with the feral, discordant tones of a hollow spinning out of control. </p><p>Somewhere behind them both Uryuu makes an indignant, horrified sound, but neither of them <em> care.</em> </p><p>Ichigo’s voice is a hissing gurgle and his hands are gauntlets with claws sharp enough to carve bones like hot butter, hair down to his waist. </p><p>He grabs Zangetsu - both hands on the hilt, up to the crossguard. Quick motion, timed just as Grimmjow’s sharp claws warp the air in front of his clothing; <em> pushes. </em><br/><br/><em> He can’t do it. </em> His hand jerks, Zangetsu slides sideways, glances neatly off white armor plating, Ichigo’s hierro is thin, and claws rend through cloth and flesh, exposing that fucking scar and then brutalising it, <em> Grimmjow kissed that scar, put his hand on the back of Ichigo’s neck, traced along the pockmarks in his shoulders- </em></p><p>He spits blood and it seeps through the teeth of his mask. One hand releases his sword, reaches through the gaping hole in Grimmjow’s abdomen, the one he’s mimicking in Ichigo’s guts, <em> there’s so much room, </em> and he tears a rend in the fabric of the world, presses forward, into the claws and the pain, shoves them both backwards into it.</p><p>“<em>Better fuck me </em> <b> <em>good</em> </b> <em> to make up for this, Grimm,</em>” He purrs sarcastically into one tapered ear, adds a shunpo for accelerated effect before either of them can get free of the jigsaw puzzle he’s made of them both.</p><p>Grimmjow can’t feel very much of anything. He can’t feel the way Kurosaki’s guts pop and shred under his claws, he can’t feel his hands thrust free to the other side and clip bone on the way out, he can’t feel the thick ooze of human blood, he can’t feel the dull tap of Zangetsu against his armor. </p><p>He <em> can </em> feel Kurosaki’s hand inside of him, can feel the press of his forearm against the roof of his hole and his eyes widen, jaw falling open and a horrible garbled noise escapes. A whimper and a curse and a moan all wrapped up in one. He convulses around the feeling, pain and pleasure mixing signals in his head, and falls easily and unresistant when Ichigo pushes him back. He bites his tongue with carnivorous teeth. <em> Stop stop stop he doesn’t want to feel. He wants to be nothing. Stop! </em></p><p>Ichigo wails in pain, insides warping and gushing blood and white hollow regeneration in equal measures. Prometheus on the rock, Grimmjow is talons deep to eat his insides, but Ichigo cannot die forever, will always come back to the agony- healing and damaging back and forth <em> vicious cycle.</em></p><p>The void peels away over white sands and Ichigo barely stabilises himself with a reishi platform, gasping for breath, blood caking down the teeth and chin of his mask, pouring from his mouth, filling up the spaces before managing to reach the gaps and freedom, wet and thick and <em> sticky </em> against his skin.</p><p>His arm slips from Grimmjow’s <em> absence </em> and Zangetsu wavers in his grip, dips low, body spasming when claws scrape spinal nerves and bone. Reiatsu bleeds into the air at the wasteful healing he’s having to do, Shiro calls in his head, panicked, <em> King, King you need to get free it’s slipping again- </em> the coat of his bankai peels at the collar, bandages fraying at the edges- <em> please stay intact, </em> and Zangetsu pours more into them (there was a time, recently, where he did not feel any shame in being uncovered in front of Grimmjow, did not feel vulnerable, but now the idea makes him want to shrivel up and vanish) keeps them steady. The scars on his shoulder expose themselves from under black material, three deep bites <em> he still presses his fingers to them sometimes, remembers teeth and tongue on his skin, </em>chained together by Benihime’s edge and Kisuke’s precision, warped down the centre of them.</p><p>Ichigo’s knees shake and he tries to lean backwards, free himself of Grimmjow’s claws. He wonders what <em> this </em> scar will look like or if the instant regen will leave nothing but the diamond. <em> We should have left it, King, should never have tampered with them, he made us so pretty. </em></p><p>Grimmjow gasps when Kurosaki’s arm falls free and takes all sensation with it and he very nearly chases it, has teeth biting down on a ‘please, come back’. <em> Don’t leave me. I’m so alone.  </em></p><p>Grimmjow twists his hands, its an uncontrolled motion, but the blades on his arms rend deep into defenseless flesh and he forces a knee up between himself and Kurosaki.</p><p>He shoves Kurosaki off of his hands and the force sends him careening into a sand dune, collapsing thousands of grains over top of him in a wave and explosion of particles. He recovers quickly enough, hauling himself free from the crater, he’s long since gotten used to the desert.</p><p>“<em>Bitch.” </em> He hisses out, enraged that his plan was thwarted so easily, though he could open another garganta and climb back through to the human world. How reliable is Kurosaki’s technique?  </p><p>Ichigo can’t quite make himself move, yet, aftershocks still warping his insides, deep and pervasive. Invasive.<br/><br/>“<em>Yeah,</em>” he coughs, blood that was trapped between teeth and skin spilling out more, there must be a solid line of red down his jaw- “<em>Just for you, Grimm.</em>” He feels tired already, sick and dizzy and nauseous. Did something heal wrong? Zangetsu shakes in his hand- no, that’s his whole arm, both of them, trembling.</p><p>There's still blood pooling in Ichigo’s mouth, bubbling up, he doesn't know from where; he isn't in pain anymore. </p><p>Shiro hums, spikes their reiatsu all over but doesn't heal anything. <em> Careful,</em> Zangetsu whispers, soothing edge and cautious consideration. </p><p>“<em>Please.</em>” He can’t keep the word under his tongue, it slips out.</p><p>Grimmjow scoffs, “you’re full of shit, Kurosaki. So fucking full of it.” </p><p>Kurosaki’s arms are shaking, blood dripping between a dragon's smile. Pathetic fucking brat. Lying little shit, hidden behind a pretty face. </p><p>“You gonna beg? Fuck. If you do I swear I will carve you into so many pieces there’s nothing left to regenerate.” Grimmjow readies himself, tail lashing in the air in anticipation, claws and arms dyed red. His hollow maw cracks open, preparing to rip meat right off Kurosaki’s still breathing body. </p><p>"<em>Worth a shot,</em>" Ichigo half-laughs, and then he lunges into a bastardised sonido, shinigami tinted hollow reiatsu blurring at the edges like a physical force trailing behind him, lagging one step, and spins, effectively ripping off one of Grimmjow's own moves as he slams the entire length of his shin into the other man's body, pure physical force even as he aims and fires a Getsuga Tenshō down the length of Zangetsu, along the trajectory line. </p><p>Grimmjow gets an arm up between himself and Kurosaki and reminds the brat why hand to hand combat is a <em> bad idea </em>with him. Kurosaki’s shin comes down hard on the sharp end of his forearm blades. </p><p>He’s not so lucky with the Getsuga and catches it across his chest, his mask absorbs some of the reiatsu, open jaw snapping at uncontrolled energy. There’s no pain, the burn runs through his hierro and it cauterises near instantly, the smell of burned flesh wafting into the air when Grimmjow executes an amazing feat of flexibility. He contorts himself into a back bend, tensa zangetsu caught in the crevice of his blades and he jerks the whole arm down, drops his shoulder and lashes out with a leg at the same time. Thigh and calf twisted to greet Kurosaki’s skin with his knives. His tail lashes out to follows suit - <em> it’s part of me, it’s a weapon, </em>bubbles up through the haze of instinct and adrenaline - he catches sight of the marks on Ichigo’s neck and refuses to falter. </p><p>
  <em> Ichigo kept them.  </em>
</p><p>"<em>What the fuck do you want, Grimmjow?!</em>" Ichigo craves an answer to the confusion in his head, the repeating susurrus of <em> why why why.</em> </p><p>Ichigo releases Zangetsu, the blade dips further forwards, the guard catching on the flat of extended blades, and then the chain pulls taught and reiatsu runs down his limbs as he pulls himself free, cloth torn where he was impaled in- too many places, he's not fighting properly and that's <em> unacceptable.</em> The chain extends again and he flash steps to the side, yanks hard and sends a burning Getsuga down the length of it but <em> doesn't detonate </em> and it engulfs Grimmjow's arm like a slow acid, hungry and inexorable.</p><p>Grimmjow feels like his cheeks might split with how wide he’s smiling. His hand is <em> mangled </em>by Kurosaki’s getsuga and he can’t feel a goddamned thing. It occurred to him earlier that he wouldn’t know how seriously he’s injured without the nociceptive input, but he doesn’t care. </p><p>Ichigo pulls Zangetsu back, the blade twists violently, spinning, but doesn't get enough purchase to do any damage, and the slow Getsuga fizzles without the physical contact. </p><p>The hilt rests heavy in his palm. </p><p><em> He hasn't fought Grimmjow in a while, he's used to Kisuke and Yoruichi, hand to hand or die, nothing like the pointy bastard Grimmjow is </em>-</p><p>He bites into the flesh of his palm and then creates a cero around it. It is pitch black and the sound it makes is enough to make glass vibrate. </p><p>He fires and it <em> is a void, consuming and wide </em> and behind it he sends three getsuga's, different points where Grimmjow could try and get out of the path of <em> devastation </em> but this cero is shaky and stops quickly. He's not good at it yet. </p><p>Grimmjow splits Kurosaki’s cero down the middle with a desgarron, and then he rips his own arm off, <em> useless dead fucking weight weak get rid of it, </em> hurling it through the smoke and sand vapour at Kurosaki’s head. He rushes after it, fist coming forward encased in a bala. </p><p>He won’t heal like Kurosaki can but he’s survived without an arm before and he’ll do it again or die trying. </p><p>Ichigo swears under his breath and flicks Zangetsu up- the blade bifurcates white armor- is <em> that a fucking arm, he didn't do enough damage for that and its been torn not burned- </em></p><p>He shifts to the side, an odd swaying motion from the hips upwards to avoid the bala, and Zangetsu comes up again, aiming for exposed stomach - it's all hollow hole and he flicks the blade away with a minute twitch of his wrist, sinks it into Grimmjow's thigh more shallowly before dropping down, remaking another reishi platform when he's a little out of range again. </p><p>"<em>What the fuck?!</em>" He snarls, hair whipping around his face with the movement, sticking in strands to the blood on his mask. It's still coming, he has to spit before he can keep talking. </p><p>"<em>I'm not fighting you if you're going to do my job of tearing you apart for me.</em>"</p><p>“Squeamish, Kurosaki?” Grimmjow’s leg gives under his weight, muscle partially cut and rolls with it, forcing himself well inside Kurosaki’s guard, too close for him to use Zangetsu. </p><p>His cero is unfocused and unrestrained but he has enough blood on his hands to help catalyse it and shoves his hand towards Kurosaki’s healed gut. The explosion throws him head over heels backwards into the air and he catches himself with a scrape against reishi dense air, breathing in harshly for a refill. </p><p>Grimmjow can’t slow down. Can’t stop. He lunges back in the direction Kurosaki would have been thrown in, reishi gathering at clawed fingertips. He’s never fired a desgarron at close range. He wonders if Kurosaki can heal from total evisceration. </p><p>Fur bursts from Ichigo’s wrists with little warning and - <em> green green acid fuck you I'll save them I'll save them, </em> he reaches out and grabs Grimmjow's hand, <em> the one that's still attached, </em>crushes the blue lines of the desgarron into fractals of reiatsu. </p><p>Then he eats them, that deep belly inhale, twists Grimmjow's hand to the side and brings Zangetsu down on the elbow. </p><p><em> Denial. Tear off the wings and pin him down and loose the cannon upon his fragile slender limbs and pinprick claws, ours were made to </em> <b> <em>conquer. </em> </b></p><p>
  <em> If we take off both his arms we can force him to submit. Drag him to Hime and she can fix whatever is wrong with his hole, too. Release him back into his natural habitat like a rehabilitated panther.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> (No no no we should keep him chained in our den and feed him the finest of hollow meat and ride him when we want when we need when we ache and are alone. That's what we wanted right? We can make him love us.)  </em>
</p><p>He doesn't lessen the swing's force. Doesn't backtrack or divert this time.</p><p>Grimmjow's tail whips out to wrap around Ichigo’s leg and <em> pulls </em> just before black metal severs his arm. There’s only sinew and the triceps left to hold the rest of the arm to the body. Grimmjow can afford to lose one. One is an acceptable sacrifice. He <em> needs </em> the other though. He rolls back, teeth parted, eyes narrowed to pinpricks. ( <em> Terror </em>) Grimmjow isn’t easily intimidated though and white bone glugs wastefully to the surface, healing over sheeted tissue. </p><p>Ichigo spins the hilt between his fingers as he rebalances himself, feints towards Grimmjow's ribs and changes at the last possible second to shear through the tail at the midway point of the appendage, instead, <em> it's a weapon, too, </em>and Shiro is howling in his head; he can feel his reiatsu plummet and ascend in dramatic bursts, hole widening, second horn slowly filling in out of ambient reishi. </p><p>He snarls in Grimmjow's face, flecks of blood painting the other's white teeth, thinks about how fucking <em> good </em> Grimmjow's skin and blood and bone will taste. </p><p>Grimmjow’ tail is <em> gone. </em>It doesn’t register until he glances at it, baffled when the strike he aims at Kurosaki’s quad reveals nothing but a burst of air and sizzling intent. </p><p>Ichigo’s in his face and it’s suddenly too much. The teeth over Grimmjow’s lips and the crown above his forehead isn’t <em> enough. </em>He needs more. Or less. Less shinigami. Less human. </p><p>He needs <em> space. </em>Freedom to breathe. He wants to be anywhere but here. Wants to feel nothing. Be nothing. Wants to throw himself on Aizen-sama's pyre. Bleed and die. </p><p>Ichigo's hand dart up towards Grimmjow's throat with a thunderous sound in his chest, <em> tastes like reckoning,</em> and blood is making a crimson river down the bandages on his chest now, too, sliding over the gap that is his hollow hole after pouring slick and metallic down his throat, the front of his body a streak of slow red. </p><p><em> Submit or die,</em> his reiatsu says, all crushing force and intent, Zangetsu so black it doesn’t reflect light off it's obsidian reflective surface at all. </p><p>Grimmjow throws himself back so hard something snaps when he hits sand and the unyielding reiatsu platforms of his own making. He <em> can’t. He can’t. He told Ichigo he can’t be on the bottom. Ichigo told him it was okay. But he </em> <b> <em>lies. </em> </b> <em> He lies. He can’t do it. Aizen forces his fingers, his cock down his throat, cum and derision suffocating, plugging his mouth drowning him. Kurosaki is supposed to be </em> <b> <em>better.</em></b></p><p>He doesn’t choke. Doesn’t sob or cry. He steels himself, despair an armour over him. </p><p>“Don’t <em> touch </em> <b> <em> me!” </em> </b>He snarls, he manages something between a cero and a Bala and hurls it at Kurosaki. </p><p>It hisses at the shinigami’s flesh, sears it but it's already healing and Zangetsu flashes downward along with Ichigo, slides smoothly into the sand through Grimmjow's expanded hollow hole, then presses it’s <em> razor sharp edge </em> up against the side, one push and Zangetsu will slide through and out the side entirely, open Grimmjow up in a more permanent manner, split him almost completely in half. Ichigo <em> thrums </em> and his claws on the wrapped hilt click together as he tightens his grip, stares down at Grimmjow, impassive hollow mask giving nothing away, eyes empty and gold. </p><p>Grimmjow thrashes and Ichigo does nothing, for a long moment, then he leans down over Grimmjow's sprawled form, free hand flicking out and sparking with corrosive green reiatsu, unstable. He holds it over the messy jag of Grimmjow's arm where it's been removed and flesh knits more solidly together, turns into scar tissue instead of a raw wound not quite bleeding, and then the energy flickers and fades again. </p><p>"<em>What did you think this would get you?</em>" </p><p>He dips the hand absently along the rim of expansive emptiness in Grimmjow's abdomen, traces the edge, careful not to cut or nick with his claws or even press too hard. Maybe he can heal this with kaido too? It's worth a shot. His hand lights up green again, in and out, still so hard to keep steady. </p><p>Grimmjow <b> <em>screams.</em></b></p><p>
  <em> Oh fuck fuck fuck it hurt it hurts Kurosaki you’re hurting me.  </em>
</p><p>His paws scramble against the sand trying to find leverage to shove himself away from Zangetsus edge. His hand shoots up with the intent of hurting Kurosaki back but it ends up being a weak clutch instead. A desperate clasp as he tries to ground himself against the forceful regeneration of a heart - it doesn’t <em> work that way! </em></p><p>Ichigo pulls his hand back immediately, the green fading away, Zangetsu’s blade twisting closer to the centre of Grimmjow’s hollow hole, further away from the edge; automatic, he still doesn’t <em> want to hurt him.</em> A whine spills from his throat, frustrated and still coated in steady pouring blood. He’s torn halfway between weakness and strength and Shiro isn’t talking at all anymore, claws ten inches deep in the mass of roiling darkness that is Ichigo’s not-quite resurreccion. </p><p>“<em>Sorry, I’m sorry.</em>”</p><p>Ichigo can't hold it- the mask fractures along the sweeping lines of his estigma, both horns split and collapse and his long hair flicks away like the shedding fur of a cat and then into nothingness. His chest seals up. </p><p>He feels smaller, now, standing in his ragged bankai coat with Zangetsu's chain wrapped around his furless wrist, barefoot where his talons burst through his sandals and shredded them into nothingness. His shoulders shake but he keeps the blade steady, still a threat and a warning. </p><p>Shiro breathes out in the back of his head, claws slowly, finally sheathing, every line of his body tense and shaking with adrenaline loss, such intense concentration finally dropped. Sluggish. </p><p><em> Sorry, </em> he rasps, <em> couldn't hold it any longer King. Didn't want to let you fall into it so I packed it back away.  </em></p><p>Ichigo's free hand comes up and he weakly scrubs at his chin and mouth, coming away coated in crimson, he's only succeeded in smearing the blood over his face a bit more, not wiping it clean in the slightest. It's no longer pouring up from inside, though, so he'll take what he can get. </p><p>"Grimmjow. Just- let's not do this. We can- Orihime can heal you, okay? I'll ask her to. You don't have to see me again after that if you don't want to, but I can't let - <em> can't let you kill me.</em> I'm sorry I did what-" <em> what Aizen did,</em> he can't say it out loud, prays it comes across in his tone and that Grimmjow doesn't surge up to rip out his throat, "- I'm sorry I touched you. You didn't deserve what I did. It was wrong."</p><p>He can say that, it feels easy and true and he <em> is sorry </em>but it doesn't stop the creeping hatred that starts in on his sense of self every time he's so much as thought of Grimmjow the past few months. </p><p>Grimmjow snarls, eyes fluttering as he rides out the remaining aftershocks of pain, muscles twitching sporadically. His grip on Kurosaki’s wrist tightens, his own shoddy regeneration working on the arm - <em> he’s not </em> <b> <em>done</em> </b> <em> yet!  </em></p><p>“<em>What do I want?” </em>He’s near hysterical and he lashes out as much as he can, the blades on the back of his legs swinging up to try and force Ichigo off of him - any attempt to unpin himself. </p><p>Ichigo shifts, one foot sliding to the side to get a stronger stance and the other coming down hard on Grimmjow's extended ankle, avoiding the blade entirely and shoving the leg down against harsh sand and reishi, unyielding. He doesn't resist when Grimmjow's claws flex through the skin of his arm, bends at the waist and tells himself if the other leg catches him he can take the pain, razor sharp in his flesh. </p><p>He presses his forehead to Grimmjow's. "What do you want? What do you need, Grimmjow?" </p><p>He can't smell or taste anything over the blood in his mouth and down his face. Stares at blue eyes. Zangetsu is still a tense threat, <em> hurt me too much and I cut you in half. </em></p><p>"What do you <em> need from me </em> to <em> fix this</em>?" </p><p>He'll keep fighting if Grimmjow wants. He'd do it for any of his friends. He would. He <em> loves </em> Grimmjow, he'd do <em> more </em> for him than what they'd get. </p><p>But he won't lay down and die. He makes sure his head is angled enough that if Grimmjow surges to try and bite his face he can roll upwards with him, flexible, just out of reach while keeping their brows pressed together. Grimmjow did this for him, not so long ago (<em>it</em> <em>feels like years have passed</em>). </p><p>Grimmjow stares back into gold eyes from mere centimetres, his own as wide as possible – pupils blown and black so completely that the blue is only visible due to Ichigo’s proximity. His expression is twisted into one of hatred, teeth bared and open - the savage spread of teeth on his mask parted in threat-  the rasping menacing rumble echoing in his chest and reverberating like a heavy bassline in his throat. Choleric acid ravages his veins and arteries, so rampant with black loathing and disgust he can barely keep forcing it through his veins.</p><p>This can’t be <em> it. </em> This can’t be all he’s worth, after everything, after all his time <em> clawing </em> his</p><p>way out of mindlessness, out of nothing. Of making something of himself, claiming a title, earning <em> respect. </em></p><p>This <em> can’t be it! </em></p><p>He is supposed to be <b>more </b>than this. The KING! Isn’t that the crown he wanted? That he deserves? The reason he kept hauling himself out of every fucking bloodbath, out of the horrors, over the corpses. Isn’t that the whole reason he survived this long?</p><p>“You CAN’T!” He bellows, the same snap of energy responsible for the sonic shockwave <em> cracks </em> from his jaws in a futile attempt at <em> something.</em> </p><p>Grimmjow didn’t come here for an apology, for Ichigo to take him to Orihime to patch him up and send him on his way like whatever Grimmjow thought (<em> hoped </em>) they shared hadn’t been real. It had felt real. It was real to Grimmjow and isn’t that supposed to be enough?  </p><p>“I’m not <em> damaged! </em> I’m not some broken fucking thing for you to <em> fix, </em> Kurosaki. You <em> said—“ </em> he chokes on his own fury, and breaks off into a snarl “- I <em> fucking </em> believed you! I did! I –“ He doesn’t even know what to say, doesn’t have any way to translate the hollow instincts urging him on into human words. <em> I love you, let me have you, let me eat you, </em> <b> <em>fix me</em>.</b><b> Fix my heart my mask my hole make me HUMAN AGAIN. <br/></b></p><p>
  <em>I don’t want to be this anymore Kurosaki. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Don’t you see? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Don’t you get it? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The reason I followed Aizen, the reason all of us came and stayed for Aizen, despite everything, is that he gave us what we wanted. And what we want is to die. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> We want to heal. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I want to be myself, not this monster with a hunger I can never fill, without a heart. Don’t you get how lonely it is to live an eternity by yourself? </em>
</p><p>Pantera is silent as the grave. Gone with the rest of everything Grimmjow scooped out of himself with his own two hands because how can he <em> possibly </em> keep living after having love and losing it. Losing it because he’s weak. Because he’s nothing. Because Aizen touched him, because Grimmjow <em> let him </em> and kept coming back for more again and again, because that was as <em> good </em>as he thought it got.</p><p>And then Ichigo gave him <em> proper </em> love. Kissed <em> him first. </em>Said they were Equals, that he Respected Grimmjow, like it was obvious and unconditional. Like that’s how it is supposed to be.</p><p>Kurosaki realized all too quickly his mistake. His egregious error in judgement. He realized that Grimmjow is a hollow unbefit for love, like everyone <em> else </em>before him. Like everyone else that Grimmjow ever loved. </p><p>Like his mother all those centuries ago, his father and his <em> sister.</em> He had a family and they loved him until death. Once he was gone all it took was… no time at all. (So he ate them. He pulled them apart and swallowed them down so they could never <em> ever </em>leave him. So they could love him. So they could be part of the monster he created.) Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez has always been replaceable, expendable.</p><p>First by his family.</p><p>Then by Aizen.</p><p>Now by Ichigo.</p><p>So now there really is nothing left. No reason to keep fighting, to keep pushing. There’s no throne waiting for him. No crown but the one he fancied himself out of his broken heart. There’s no kingdom. No subjects to adore him. </p><p>Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez is <b>alone</b><em><b>.</b></em><b> </b></p><p>“Just <em> kill me!” </em> It comes out strangled, on ragged panting breath. He won’t beg for death. He can’t, not ever, he still has his pride as crushed and damaged as it is. But if <em> Ichigo can’t love me, and I can’t have him, keep him, then what’s the </em> <b> <em>point. </em> </b> <b>“</b>You fucking COWARD! Because if you don’t I swear I will keep coming for you. I will hunt you down again and again until I can crack your ribs open and eat your fucking <em> heart </em> out.”</p><p>Ichigo let's go of Zangetsu, the chain that wraps around his wrist and leads to the handle extending, keeping a point of connection even as he reaches up and pushes his fingers through thick blue hair, shifts his face and presses a bloody kiss to Grimmjow's mask. </p><p>"I love you." He sighs it out, his body <em> aches.  </em></p><p>“NO YOU <b>DON’T!” </b>Grimmjow shoves back, then recoiling from the display of affection Ichigo <em>shouldn’t be showing - stop </em><b><em>lying to me!</em></b> His mask snaps closed to hide the twist of his lips, the way he catches his lip between his teeth to hold the sob back. Pain to distract from the <em>hurt</em>, the ugly toad in his throat, the misery that threatens to drown him.</p><p>"Yes, I do. And yeah, I <em> am </em> a coward. I've never been in love before, and then I hurt you, scared you enough you- <em> hid, </em> and you're so proud and tall <em> all the time.</em> I felt horrendous, forcing you into a position where you <em> weren't comfortable. </em> I felt like I was just as bad as <em> Aizen.</em>" </p><p>Grimmjow can’t process Ichigo’s words. <em> As bad as Aizen. As bad as… Aizen… Aizen-sama loved me though. He kept me. He allowed me to come </em> <b> <em>back. </em> </b> <em> You </em> <b> <em>left me all alone. </em> </b> <em> You don’t want me. You didn’t when I offered, what </em> <b> <em>more </em> </b> <em> could I have </em> <b> <em>done?! </em> </b></p><p>Ichigo tightens his grip on blue strands, briefly, then he drags his fingertips along the scalp, petting, soothing. "I couldn't get rid of the scars you left. I thought it would be better to- <em> run away </em> because I was <em> so sure </em> that's what you'd want. That you'd hate the fucking sight of me. And you do, don't you? Tell me you hate me again."</p><p>Ichigo’s lungs feel like they're filling with acid with every single breath he takes, and he can't bring himself to close his eyes, so the swell of tears obscures his vision slowly, like an oncoming storm. He purrs, soft, ragged, not even close to the smooth feline rumble Grimmjow can produce. <em> I love you. </em> It calls, weak and apologetic. <em> You can't eat me.  </em></p><p>"I can't <em> kill you I can't. </em>I can't do that. I don't - I'm sorry, I'm so selfish. I don't want to lose you."</p><p>“You LEFT <b>ME!</b>” Grimmjow wails and Something gives. Cracks, crumbles, collapses. The mask he forced back onto his face, to hide everything from everyone, from himself isn’t <em> working </em> and he can’t hold it. He held it for months. Made himself nothing for <em> months </em> and Ichigo makes him <em> everything </em> how can he fight that!</p><p>The teeth over Grimmjow’s mouth return to dust, to emotion and it’s so <em> much. </em> It falls over his face, off his face and he is exposed. It’s too much. He is a hollow, he doesn’t know how to feel like this. Pantera <em> Pantera I need you </em> <b> <em>please</em>.</b><b> <br/></b></p><p>Grimmjow gasps and shudders, bites his tongue and presses his eyes shut - he can’t handle it. “You left <em> me,</em> and I--” his words catch and he gasps for air. </p><p>Pantera is his most hollow part. She is rage and fury and destruction. She is a force of nature and she has always been too large. Too great for him to contain so Aizen placed her in a sword and he held her at his side. When he needed her she would always be there. Always be with him to give him claws and fangs and a crown. </p><p>And she is not here now because she is him, and if she is his hollow half and his shinigami sword and his crown, how can she exist when he doesn’t deserve any of that? How can she be here to help him, when he needs her most, if he doesn’t want to help himself?</p><p>
  <em> Please. I want…  </em>
</p><p>Grimmjow stares back at Ichigo, at the tears collecting in the corners of Ichigo’s eyes, at the miserable set of Ichigo’s brow. He hears the purr as wretched as it is, and ---</p><p>
  <em> I wanted to deserve this. To be enough for you.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>But I will never be able to have this.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>You won’t love me. You won’t eat me. You won’t kill me.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>You don’t want me. You don’t want to keep me, won’t let me be a part of you, won't become a part of me, don’t respect me enough to even get rid of me. After all of this I am still  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Nothing </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>To  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>You.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Ichigo.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Do you know what despair tastes like? </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Pantera <b>roars</b>, and Grimmjow roars with her. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The explosion of reiatsu is a detonation, an eruption of power and force and emotion. </p><p>It’s nothing, takes nothing to force Ichigo off of him to force Zangetsu out of him to force himself back up, bloodied and wrathful and immovable. </p><p>The roar tapers into a growl and his tails, a pair serrated with lethal blue reiatsu, flick incensed through the unsettled sand so sharply the air cracks like lightning. His growl is the thunder. </p><p>Claws black as hell, as Zangetsu and Ichigo, spread wide, each of them long enough to pierce right through a body and out the other side. The black swaths bleed into bone plated armor and then wind up his arms to mimic the black estigma Ichigo himself wears, now a part of Grimmjow that he will never be able to tear out. Both his hands spread, reiatsu crackling of his skin and between his claws in great bursts of white blue lightning. </p><p>The crown upon his head is one of teeth. Jaguar fangs ready to rend. </p><p>“I don’t hate you, Kurosaki.” The words are quiet under the howling gale of sand and smoke that kicked up in the explosion. They’re the truth. </p><p>Grimmjow has never hated Ichigo. Not when they first met and Grimmjow mangled him with a smile on his face. Not when they met again in the white desert of Hueco Mundo and Ichigo beat him into submission. Not when Ichigo saved his life from Nnoitra. Not when Ichigo left him vulnerable and alone under a bed in a castle of opportunistic cannibals. </p><p>“I just wanna make you hurt.” <em> Like you hurt me.</em> “I want to tear your heart out because even if you don’t want me… I want to kill you. I want to eat you. <b> <em>I</em> </b> want to love you…” Grimmjow stares across the desert at the shinigami. “You don’t get to say anything else.” </p><hr/><p>Ichigo tries to speak, when Grimmjow's mask crushes down on itself and vanishes completely, but he doesn't even get his tongue around the first <em> syllable </em> when there's - movement, a <em> torrent of reiatsu </em>and he's pushed back, grasping at Zangetsu's hilt on instinct and his bloodied fingers slip on the cloth slightly. </p><p>He stares, long and hard, and he thinks either the tears have finally fallen or they were whipped away by air pressure, because his vision is clear. </p><p><em> Maybe this is what it felt like fighting me, </em> he thinks a little hysterically, biting back a laugh that's anything but happy. <em> Pulling evolution out of my ass every damn time. </em></p><p>"I'm already hurt." He tries, but as soon as he says it he knows it's never going to be enough. <em> He feels like Ulquiorra. </em> His heart flutters in his chest, <em> true fear,</em> and he's already worn out, Grimmjow is <em> fresh as a fucking daisy </em> and the only person here to protect- is himself. </p><p>"Consumption <em> isn't love.</em>" He tries instead. Also stupid. Also worthless. Won't do a damn thing to change what's going to happen. </p><p>Ichigo doesn't have the best track record of <em>levelling</em> <em>up</em> for his <em>own </em>sake. His body protests when he drags Zangetsu up into a guard position, spasms of phantom pain sparking in his guts and out his back where clawed hands went right through <em>before the addition of another three inches, </em>so sharp at the tip he can't even see it. He never thought <em>Grimmjow </em>would give him the same level of trauma as Ulquiorra did. </p><p>His face is still covered in blood, down his chin and throat, staining into the grey bandages, frayed and ripped in places. The upper part of his bankai coat is completely gone, <em> too much regeneration, </em> Shiro mumbles, apologetic. <em> I can make our usual mask?  </em></p><p>He's so tired. He just doesn't understand Grimmjow at all. He's <em> not hollow enough. </em>It was probably always going to end this way. He'd fuck up eventually. </p><p>Ichigo always fucks things up with the people he cares about. </p><p>"Well? Come on, then." He hums, exhaustion creeping into his voice. </p><p>Grimmjow <em> moves.</em> </p><p>Whatever it is, it’s not a sonido. One second he’s standing tall and dangerous before Ichigo, the next he is slipping past Zangetsu’s guard and into the space between Ichigo’s arms, a mockery of receiving a hug from the boy; his claws find meat. That’s all Ichigo’s made of after all. Just a blood filled bag of flesh. </p><p>Grimmjow shreds right through the diamond scar tissue where <em> his mark </em> used to belong, he fists his hand before he can rip through the other side - words from what a different lifetime ringing in his ears and forcing him to falter. <em> “I wouldn't want you to make matching things.”  </em></p><p>Grimmjow grabs for organs instead and presses his face close to Ichigo, smirk sly and eyes narrow, “want a <em> kiss, </em>Kurosaki?”</p><p>Ichigo has a moment of blurry and hilarious deja vu, back to his first ever meeting with Byakuya, when he didn't even <em> see him move. </em>One second Grimmjow is- there. The next his organs are being pulped like messy citrus fruit under a child's hands. </p><p><em> Fuck,</em> Zangetsu-Shiro thinks, aloud, shock running through them, Ichigo can't look away from blue eyes and a wide smirk, and then his pupils narrow into tiny specks of black floating in lingering gold. His sclera lighten abruptly, and he <em> spits </em> blood, it sprays from his mouth in a gush, through his teeth and then when he opens them it waterfalls down his front, no mask to slow the tide, oh fuck was that his entire stomach? What just went viscous and <em> popped </em> inside him? Was it multiple organs? His intestines as well? His goddamn womb? His nose is bleeding too, somehow, thick and steady to join the mess of his mouth, thick crimson <em> everywhere. </em>He tries to breathe, can't around the blood in his throat and nostrils, so he gathers it in the back of his mouth and purposefully spits it into Grimmjow's face this time. </p><p><em> Fuck you,</em> he thinks, only half meaning it. Can't bring himself to drop his gaze to where Grimmjow is ruining his insides <em> again. </em>You like going for the stomach, huh? Too bad for you Ulquiorra already made my hollow hole the same as his. </p><p>He grins, wide, hysterical, his body spasms. Zangetsu falls from his grip when his fingers unclench. </p><p>Grimmjow catches the blade in his free hand, and with a near luxurious swipe of his tongue across his mouth to collect the splattered blood Kurosaki so generously gifted him - he tastes like godamned sex on a beach or some shit. Coppery and human - and presses the hilt of the sword insistently back into Ichigo’s hands. </p><p>“No, no, no.” He leans in closer to run his tongue across Ichigo’s neck where the blood is spilling and pooling. It’s impossible to miss the sensation of the rough line of a sword scar over his bitemarks, he wriggles his fingers, disemboweling Ichigo with the effortlessness of a steak knife in mashed potatoes, in butter, in steak. “You don’t get to be <em> done,</em> yet.”</p><p>He pulls his hand free, a wet squelch accompanying the action.</p><p>Ichigo folds like wet paper, one hand instinctively coming around to grab at the wound- <em> mistake, that was a mistake, </em>searing agony, his guts are spilling out wet and heavy in his hands. He's not healing. </p><p>“Stand up,” Grimmjow commands.</p><p>Ichigo bites back the scream he wants to let out, pain warring with the shock and the wet gag made of his own blood that makes it hard to breathe, let alone speak. </p><p>Grimmjow grabs at the bandages along his chest--to hold him up, maybe, but they pull apart like thin lines of string. </p><p>Ichigo can't curl his fingers properly around Zangetsu, even when he’s <em> oh so lovingly </em>offered back to him, pressed into his palm. Dots swirl across his vision and his head cracks against Grimmjow's - chest, or hip, or knee, maybe, some armor plated part of him that stutters his otherwise unimpeded slump and hurts like a bitch. </p><p><em> Ah, </em> he thinks, still can't breathe, suffocating on his own crimson. <em> Shiro? Could use... Some help here.  </em></p><p>Ichigo doesn't catch the response, though he can sort of hear the frantic overlapping tones, his eyes roll back briefly before he forces himself to try and see. </p><p>He doesn't wanna die <em> again.</em> </p><p>Zangetsu drops underwhelmingly into the sand at his side. </p><p>Grimmjow stalls. Eyes wide at Ichigo collapsed in the sand and bleeding out like a stuck pig. That’s not supposed to happen. </p><p>He almost asks if Ichigo’s okay. Not in so many words but the sentiment would have been there. A harsh jab to Ichigo’s side with a paw returns nothing but a pained grunt. </p><p>This is it? Where’s his glorious battle? Where’s the fire in Ichigo’s blade, red rimmed energy burning him apart? Where’s the ferocious half feral baring of white teeth that matches Grimmjow’s own?</p><p>Grimmjow shoves Ichigo onto his back with a paw, claws jabbing at the soft skin and likely shaving some of it off in the process. The swell of blood into the air is infatuating, delirium inducing, and Grimmjow's teeth clack apart so he can breath deep and coat his mouth with the savory flavour. </p><p>He drops to his knees, straddled over the boy, hovering carefully away from his battered body and roughly shoves his head back, exposing a long line of red painted throat to his eyes, in sharp countenance to the considerate way he doesn’t drop his weight to pin Kurosaki down. The mouse is still permitted to run if it likes. </p><p>Grimmjow doesn’t, however, hesitate to place his teeth back at Ichigo’s throat, at his marks. He wants to see them, to admire them so he can make sure he recreates them <em> perfectly </em> when he reconstructs Ichigo’s body in his mindscape. Getting to lick them clean is a simple pleasure. </p><p>Ichigo seizes, fingers scrabbling into the sand, clawing slightly at the links of the chain that still clings stubbornly to his wrist- there's no weight at the end, no drag of Zangetsu's hilt and blade in the white grains. The metal has snapped off, somewhere, and he doesn’t know where the sword has gone. Can’t sit up to look for it.</p><p>Laying back with his head pulled away the blood has nowhere to run down, pooling in his mouth and he can't summon the strength to spit it out, can't turn his head to let it drain sideways. His knees jerk, he tries- tries to move, shove Grimmjow off of him but he tenses up automatically when teeth and tongue find the scars along the crook of his neck, and the hollow feels <em> so fucking heavy </em> over him, pressing him down with his reiatsu. At least with Ulquiorra it was <em> over quickly,</em> this is <b>agonising</b>. </p><p>Ichigo is exposed completely, bandages snapping entirely away along the middle where Grimmjow pulled the weight bearing ones apart, scars he <em> hasn't shown anyone </em> along his ribs meeting air, and there's blood bubbling out of the hole in his guts, steaming. He smells raw flesh, his <em> own </em>raw flesh. </p><p>He manages to lift one arm, weak, shove and drag at Grimmjow's chest, slips and hits the edge of the hollow hole in the man’s gut, loses the strength completely and it falls back to the sand at his side. He wants to vomit but he doesn't have a stomach anymore. </p><p>Zangetsu is <em> frenzied </em> in his head--oh, is that Shiro? Why can't he tell between him and the old man? How odd. He's yelling at him, screaming, <em> all I want to protect is </em> <b> <em>you</em>.</b> Telling him to get up and fight. </p><p>But - yes, he wants to do things with his life. He has people he loves. People he doesn't want to leave behind. But it's <em> so difficult </em>to think of them right now, when all he can feel and sense is pain and Grimmjow above him, looming like an inevitability. What can he possibly do? </p><p>Bone creeps up over his face and he struggles to focus on it, but a mistimed, useless gasp for air fractures it again and it fades out, a weak burst of reiatsu as it tries and fails to cover his hopeless expression. He's <em> fucking terrified </em> and he can't breathe, can't see at all now. His eyes are open but all he can perceive is blackness. <em> Void.</em> </p><p>He pulls his mouth into a grin again, manages to choke up enough blood to get one blissful burst of air in- </p><p>"<em>Grimmjow.</em>" He gasps, it's all he can manage. His chest shudders down, compresses out more blood from his nose and mouth, but he can't get another breath in so he lets his eyes close halfway, a weak rumble in his throat, he can't purr. Can't chirp or call out with no air. </p><p>
  <em> Bastard. Love hate you.  </em>
</p><p>He stops thinking. Everything goes still. </p><p>He's dead, he knows it, entirely so, ruinous cavern in his guts. </p><p>Grimmjow feels every shake and twitch and shiver of Ichigo’s dying body beneath him and it may not have been the sublime clash of blades that he used to dream of but somehow it's still <em> so good.</em> Maybe because it’s Ichigo. Maybe because Grimmjow is a bleeding heart. </p><p>He thinks Ichigo is beautiful covered in red, and he spares an indulgent moment in his meticulous cleaning of his marks to lean back and watch, enraptured, in the way Ichigo scrambles. He shivers in delight when Ichigo’s hand trails down his stomach, sighs into the dip of fingers into his hole before Ichigo’s strength fails him. </p><p>There’s blood in Ichigo’s mouth, Grimmjow can see and it takes everything for him not to lean forward and lick it out of his mouth, but Ichigo doesn’t want kisses from him, and so he refrains. He doesn’t however stop the fond, besotted little chirp from leaving his throat or the hungry rolling purr of a large cat about to feast on his prey. </p><p>Ichigo chokes and sputters, forcing <em> his name </em> past a blood clogged mouth and it’s <em> his name</em>. </p><p>Oh, Ichigo. </p><p>“Why couldn’t you love me too?” Grimmjow murmurs, running the backs of his fingers up Ichigo’s cheekbone, wiping away the failing attempt at hollowfication with a tender flick of his fingers, and then he slides his hand down, over Ichigo’s jaw and his throat, pausing momentarily at the hollow between his clavicles before completing his path to the exposed skin over Ichigo’s heart. </p><p>Grimmjow flattens a palm and leans back down to Ichigo, his face hovering only a few inches above Ichigo’s own. He wants to see the light fade, the moment of resolution up close so he can never forget it. All the while he purrs his bittersweet pleasure for Ichigo’s failing senses to hear. A quiet song to calm him. </p><p>“Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon,” he promises. <em> Promises, because if Ichigo is a part of him then Grimmjow will love him. He will love Grimmjow. </em>“It won’t hurt anymore. I’ll make you okay soon.”</p><p>All Ichigo’s muscles fall lax, eyes stuck open, blood still pressing out of his mouth and running down his cheeks. No movement, his eyes are empty and blank and dull. </p><p>And then the stuttering rhythm under Grimmjows palm stops.</p><p>This time when Grimmjow leans into Ichigo’s throat it’s with his mouth open and ready to rip right through it. The tips of his claws sink between Ichigo’s fourth and fifth ribs, parting skin like fruit, mindful of the organ underneath, his real prize, and its with a satisfying snap that the bone gives. </p><p>Grimmjow gets to have his heart and eat it too. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Don't forget to leave us a comment so we know if you're enjoying the story!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <em> There's prey above him.  </em>
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<p>His body surges upwards with a rolling wash of reiatsu--peeling in out of nothingness, it swamps the area like a thick blanket. Rough and smothering. The air itself distorts briefly and offending claws are ripped from his skin and body, loose entrails snap back into himself and missing pulverised organs gurgle back into existence. </p>
<p>His heart does not start beating again, and he opens one hand, the other outstretched where he physically shoved the prey off of him, <em> carrion wretch, trying to feast on the flesh of things greater than you. </em>From the sand a shard of obsidian glass fixed to a cloth wrapped hilt flies up, slaps into his open palm and he wraps gauntlet claws around it, firm, reassuring. Everything is silent inside. </p>
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  <em> He is hungry.  </em>
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<p>The last fight he did not <em> get to consume</em>, his victory and prize ripped away by a foolish dead boy trying to regain power. That fucking <em> woman's </em> screaming awoke him. </p>
<p>This time there are no protective instincts to rage against his superiority. The boy is dead and he is glorious with piercing horns and red fur running rings around his wrists and ankles, clawed toes, estigma spreading down to the pretty little hollow hole he has. His mark of <b>Death</b>. </p>
<p>He stretches, cracks his neck, pats over his stomach and up over his ribs, snarls at the shiny new scars the prey gave him, while hunched over the boy's dead body. He will not be so easy to subdue. He isn't weak and full of love. Red light pools between the points of his horns and he clenches his teeth, eyes solid black and unfeeling behind the cage of bone across his face. There's no honey gold or acid yellow here. He has eaten his sword and his heart. It does not belong to the prey who tried to dig down to pull it out. </p>
<p>He lifts his arm, a sweeping motion, and points the empty sword towards the black and white feline form of the <em> carrion prey,</em> <em> wretched creature taking advantage of the boy's softness. You will regret it.  </em></p>
<p>The cero fires, endless, the same burst that vaporised half of the batlike <em> meal </em> he never got to feast upon. Perhaps the kitten will be twice as filling. </p>
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<p>Grimmjow dodges out of the way in time only due to the horrific sense of deja vu that claws up his back - the image of red light bursting through his chest where Zangetsu’s scar is still concealed in the red folds of reiatsu burned tissue, his own death - he rolls on landing, paws catching the sand and he doesn’t pause to question it, the creature before him. He already knows, there’s an instinctive recognition of the predator from above the dome. </p>
<p>Perhaps he will get one final battle out of Kurosaki after all. </p>
<p>The cero detonates somewhere to the left of him but Grimmjow is impatient and Too Much is happening Too Fast for him to process so he reacts on instinct, already closing the distance again. He’s most lethal where his claws, blades, and fangs can reach his prey. </p>
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<p>The hollow howls, an echoing war cry when the prey <em> pounces </em> at him, teeth parted, both sets, so fucking <em> hungry,</em> he’s never gotten to eat anything, not really, and he is eager to <em> rectify that. </em> The sword flicks up in a blur of super-fast motion, warps the air behind it and flicks shallowly across white armor plating, between the prey’s extended arms and across his chest- it’s lucky it has such impressive speed, the blade barely nicks along it’s jaw instead of slicing right up through it’s head. <br/><br/>He fires another cero, white streaks through the crimson- <em> all down his front, how much did the boy bleed? </em> The flakes of mixed dry-wet life fluid float up into it and it turns a deep purple-black and - another one, this time powerful enough to reshape the sands surrounding them. It turns the grains to smooth heat-glass, his hair flicking around him in the rush of air.</p>
<p>The fucking carrion <em> shit </em> won’t stay <em> still, </em> little <em> scavenger bastard. </em></p>
<hr/>
<p>“Fuck, Kurosaki!” Grimmjow snaps, head shooting back to avoid - blood brains on sand - skull fragments - mask fragments - brittle white bloody - the blade in the nick of time. He drops low, slides under the obsidian weapon and gets a tail around a leg. His momentum doesn’t halt and his grip tightens, sharp edges shearing through hierro and another sonido is enough to carve right through the bone. Grimmjow knows it won’t even slow the Vasto Lorde down.</p>
<p>The blast of heat across his back, scant inches between him and spinelessness, singes his hair and the glass - sand crystalized immediately on contact with the heat - burns his paws enough that he can faintly smell charred meat.</p>
<p>He feels reactive more than anything else, brain running faster then ever before and processing too much information for him to fucking <em> see straight </em> all he knows is he needs to <b>move</b><b><em>. </em> </b>He charges a cero, sanguine crimson catalyzed with his blood, or Ichigo’s blood he doesn’t know, turning a poisonous blue and uses it to kick up more reiatsu and sand in an attempt for some cover to get back in close again. </p>
<p>Ichigo was <em> dead </em> and now he’s not, but there’s still no heartbeat. And isn’t it a <em> fucking joke </em> Grimmjow’s finally stronger, and it barely lasts a minute. He knows a predator when he sees one. </p>
<p>He throws himself back towards with claws extended, prepared to grapple Zangetsu long enough to get something sharp back in Ichigo’s organs, how many times can the bastard <em> fix himself! </em></p>
<hr/>
<p>The prey speaks, the boy’s name falling from it’s maw, and he doesn’t care in the slightest, narrows his gaze behind the mask as it kicks up sand with a cero. He steps sideways, instincts curling heavy in his head and a clawed hand pierces through the dust where he <em> was </em> - he grabs the wrist and crushes down, and is pleased to note it requires <em> much </em> more force than the bat-one. All blue, no acid green. It’s a much nicer colour.</p>
<p><em> Pretty prey, </em> he purrs, low, hungry. Releases his grip and charges up another cero, red and white once more, holds it sustained and- sweeps it across the sand to try and catch the flighty little thing, shoulders back and feet planted firmly. The sword vibrates in his hand, full of <em> energy.</em> It is still utterly silent inside. <br/><br/>He’s going to <em> enjoy this meal </em> with no distractions this time, no switch to flick inside to wake the boy up and start their empty heart beating again, a return to weak life. Pathetic. He’s so much stronger than the boy.</p>
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<p>Grimmjow again finds himself reacting without thought - charred burned black meat - limbs gone - couldn’t stand the heat - husk of a hollow - and throws himself skyward. The land ignites beneath him, sand dunes of bone reduces to nothing but slag and ash, stained black as the sky above it. Some sort of panic rakes the inside of his lungs when he breathes in nothing but detritus and chokes on it and it bursts free with a startled yelp, ‘<em>you’ll scatter me!’ </em></p>
<p>
  <em> I’ll be nothing, have nothing left. Nothing left to eat, to keep, Kurosaki you changed your mind again, you hate the idea of being with me so much?  </em>
</p>
<p>His weight drops from the sky in a twisting flip of honed steel plates and knives, blue reiatsu bursting along the seams to reinforce his defense and edges. Black hands reach for satanic horns, and his hierro gives a little against their edges. Every hollow knows to aim for the mask if you can, it’s only shinigami that don’t want to see the human face underneath it.</p>
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<p><em> ‘Scatter you?’ </em> He snarls (there’s something that makes him want to speak to this prey, the green-black-bat-wings didn’t deserve his coherence, only his <em> rage and hunger </em>, monstrous and unforgiving-)</p>
<p><em> ‘Why so surprised, pretty prey, I don’t </em> <b> <em>know you</em> </b> <em> I am not the </em> <b> <em>weak one</em> </b> <em> with the useless heart. I am endless as the sand.’ </em></p>
<p>He sways, sideways, fluid and snakelike, brings his sword up again and it rakes sparks along the edges of the prey’s claws and then up along the interlocking armor plates of it’s arms. He opens his jaws, inhales, <em> pulls </em> at the edges of it’s reiatsu, honey-warm and so deliciously filling. He can’t wait to <em> sink his teeth into it </em> and make it pour red all over his claws. Teach it the folly of trying to eat <em> his heart.</em> (He doesn’t have one.)</p>
<p>The prey’s other hand chisels along the jawline of his mask with an awful scraping sound, chips a shallow line down it and he snarls his displeasure, tosses his head back and then lunges, chases the <em> mongrel </em> across the sand with a swirling slash of his blade, claws spread on his free hand.</p>
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<p>It’s a race, <em> a hunt </em>, across the sand and sky, black and white clash over and over as Grimmjow ducks dodges and parries his way out of death again - Zangetsu streams red and most of his innards - and again - and arm and a leg and the part that holds his top to his bottom - and again - speared right through the eye and out the front of his face - Zangetsu sheers through the sensitive cartilage of his ear and along the edge of his unusually exposed cheekbone and Grimmjow makes the fatal mistake of forgetting to harden the sand under his foot as he dodges.</p>
<p>Grimmjow slips and Zangetsu catches him sharply in the shoulder when he twists to spin out of the way. </p>
<p>A hand shoves the sword up and free of his meat and he doesn't release his grip when he spins and <em> slams </em> a bladed leg into the Vasto Lorde’s side. Grimmjow doesn’t know how much damage he does because he slides his hand up black glass at risk of losing his fingertips to wrap his hand around the entirety of Ichigo’s hand guard. He pierces diamond hard claws through Ichigo’s wrist, holding him steady so he can snap his teeth in cheap imitation of Kurosaki’s attempt to eat him alive  (and didn’t that little <em> pull </em>on his reiatsu send an uncomfortable flutter through his chest. Mixed signals ravage his rational thought). </p>
<p>He wrenches Kurosaki’s hand to the side and slow’s whatever Kurosaki’s retaliation is supposed to be with both tails around the wrist to pull it in the opposite direction so that the beginnings of blue desgarron can rend through Ichigo’s shoulder, through the bitemarks Grimmjow cherishes, the growl that follows is filled with hurt, ‘<em>you </em> <b> <em>know</em> </b> <em> me’. You do, don’t you Ichigo? </em></p>
<hr/>
<p>He staggers slightly, dips his head with a muffled yowl of pain- the flesh fills back in almost as soon as blue shards pass through it and he snaps his teeth together with a click. The prey is inside his guard, pressed up and making the sword useless at such close range.</p>
<p>So he drops it, twists his hand and digs his claws into the backs of the <em> yowling little fucker </em>’s tails, the sharp points popping through interlocking armor. Twists the other hand and lets kitty-claws rend through his flesh and disable the hand completely- for less than a second as he pulls it back and out, regeneration fizzing up and he flexes the healed muscles, pleased. One hand free-</p>
<p>‘<em>He knew you, he knows you, he wants you, </em> <b> <em>I</em> </b> <em> just </em> <b> <em>want to EAT </em> </b> <em> YOU! The boy is DEAD!’ </em> He howls, a deep wailing roar, nothing soft, this close the prey can see the flat black emptiness of his eyes. He brings the claws of his free hand down, across the chest and the scar tissue there, tries to rend it back open but <em> deeper </em>, shear through the sternum. Tear the prey’s heart out and eat it raw and messy. Then the lungs, suck the marrow from his bones.</p>
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<p>It happens so quickly -- Grimmjow howls at the shock of pain directly to his system, the tails are a stupidly vulnerable point, so many tiny joints and nerves. Though the armor is thick it does nothing to help lessen the pain when talons shove their way into the vertebra, through all three nerve cords and Grimmjow’s whole lower body goes limp and useless - sensation numbing to nothing with the serevence of his spine.</p>
<p>- Ribcage cracked and pried open -  lungs and guts and liver strewn in rage - grasping white hands can’t find the organ its looking for - the one that hollows don’t have - red blood coating its fingers - running over tanned skin - splattering blue eyes empty and open - Grimmjow shoves his forearm between his chest and Ichigo’s talons forcing the movement to a halt on pain of separating fingers from hand. Ichigo doesn't care about fingers. He can regrow them. </p>
<p><em> I just want to eat you,</em> “<em>Oh,</em>” He breathes, gasps. Eaten is better than nothing, better than alone. Better then abandoned. <em> Ichigo’s changed his mind! He doesn’t want… love but he will have me.</em> It’s a last chance, one more offer. The only option left. “<em>Okay.</em>”</p>
<p>This is the fallacy of hollow love. You can not survive with it, you can not live without it. It inevitably drives you to self destruction. To death or insanity.</p>
<p>Grimmjow feels precariously like he’s hardly straddling the line between the two. He’s already on his back. Survival instincts demand he fall lax and pliant, demand he purr and beg and spread his legs, anything to avoid death, to avoid consumption. But <em> Ichigo wants him? </em>He wants Grimmjow? </p>
<p>The Vasto Lorde that is Ichigo but isn’t, isn’t lying. Grimmjow doesn’t think it knows how. </p>
<p>“Can I be with him?” He asks, eyes wide with…. Wonder, with <em> hope.</em> He’s going to die here, he’s not stupid. This game of cat and dragon has never been more than that. A game. A predator toying with its meal before it eats it. He chirps on the exhale, quietly, gently, ‘<em>Iloveyou’, </em> like it’s the easiest thing in the world for him to say. Everything’s easy to say when you look death in the face. Nothing’s scarier, not even words. Not even feelings. The chirp turns to a hiccup and a groan, ‘<em>iloveyou imscared. Okay okay okay. </em></p>
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<p>He follows the prey down, mouth positively <em> watering </em> at the ease of it, maybe he <em> should </em> have spoken to the acid-green one, if it would have killed him quicker, maybe he could have eaten him. <em> Such a waste. </em> Straddles the little blue thing, so easy. Long orange hair brackets it’s face, wide blue eyes, drapes down over it. </p>
<p>What a <em> strange creature, odd prey, </em> so willing to be consumed once it realises that’s what he wanted. Wants a meal, wants something to fill his stomach. The endless greedy pit.</p>
<p>More human-not-human words fall from the prey’s lips. He will hear it out, a small mercy. Assuage it’s worries, perhaps.</p>
<p>‘<em>No. Yes. Maybe. I don’t know, the boy is </em> <b> <em>d e a d</em> </b> <em> and I am here instead. If he is in there you can have him. What is love? What is </em> <b> <em>l o v e</em> </b> <em> this thing you say? Whatwhatwhat. Tell me what it is before I eat you.’ </em></p>
<p>He drops his head, flicks a long forked tongue out between the exterior teeth and drags it along the line of exposed skin that leads up, up to the prey’s jaw. Tastes warm and with blood running under the surface, under the hierro. The waiting is only going to make it taste <em> sweeter. </em> He fixes his hands around the prey’s ribcage, clawed fingers splayed open, ready to crush down, crack all the armor into pieces. Patience. He wants to know.</p>
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<p>Grimmjow jolts and shudders underneath the near crushing weight of the Vasto Lorde’s reiatsu and his hands. He stills just as suddenly. Instincts he had been trying to battle down surging up along the remainder of his backbone to wrap their icy fingers around his neck and brainstem. He can’t <em> move, </em>he can hardly breathe. He feels like a deer in headlights.</p>
<p>What is love. </p>
<p>Grimmjow doesn’t know really. He knows he feels it, that it’s the sticky viscous warm possessive thing that makes him want to reach up and mouth at the marks on Ichigo’s neck. He knows it hurts. </p>
<p>He thinks of Aizen’s love, the all consuming way in which it swallowed him whole and spat him back out with something like adoration something like abhorrence in the taste on his tongue. He thinks of his family in the eons before he was a menos. The memory is so hazy and faded he doesn’t even know if it was real or fabricated. He thinks of the careful press of Ichigo’s lips to his masked forehead and of hunting and feeding his idiot fraccion, his pack.</p>
<p>He thinks he feels good about love, so he purrs. ‘<em>It is… not being alone. And not being nothing. To someone else. It is…” </em>He doesn’t know how to say it better than that. He thinks he must have it wrong, Ichigo wouldn’t like that description. He wouldn’t like that it fits Luppi and Aizen. </p>
<p>There’s only one thing he’s done with Ichigo that he hasn’t done with them. Only one… </p>
<p>A clawed hand lifts itself from the dirt, black as the blade buried in the sand near the pair, to carefully thread through a long orange mane until he’s gently cupping the back of Ichigo’s skull. When he forces his body to move, for him to prop himself up under the weight of hollow reiatsu, it’s only to cautiously pull the hollow’s head down and to press his forehead to Ichigo’s, to the hollow's. </p>
<p>It’s all he has. </p>
<p><em>‘Iloveyou,’</em> he says again, to Ichigo, because he does. And If Ichigo doesn’t want him… if he never wanted him… Grimmjow could still be… useful, something, not nothing to him like this. And that's… not okay, it's not, it <em>hurts, </em>he doesn’t want to die. He wants to… <em>cry… </em>but he has done worse for less. It’s <em>Ichigo.</em> He would do anything for… being loved. No. Tolerated. Prey. Anything at all. He just wants… </p>
<p><em>'You said you’d fight me whenever I wanted. You marked me </em> <b> <em> first,</em></b><em> I thought…’ </em> But he was wrong, and that's okay now. Because he’s about to die anyway. <em> Let me die in you, </em> at least. He has nothing more to say. '<em>I love you.’ </em></p>
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<p>He tenses when the prey moves underneath him, but allows the shift and the contact, recognising the- submission, acceptance, resignation-in-the-face-of-<em> death </em> underlying the movements. His mask taps at the prey’s brow and he hums, soft, curious. </p>
<p>Confused. It doesn’t really answer his query, not truly, and he grasps at the concept, trying to study it, make it <em> make sense </em> to him. </p>
<p>‘<em>You love him? Why did you kill him then?’ </em>He warbles, curious- if love is all of that, being known to someone else, doesn’t eating defeat the purpose? He doesn’t know. </p>
<p><br/>He decides he doesn’t care. The prey is weak and willing to be consumed. Less effort for him, and the chase across the sand and glass was <em> satisfying.  </em></p>
<p><br/>‘<em>Did you mark him back? Was he not yours? </em> ’ Why didn’t the prey just <em> take the boy </em> if he wanted him and his ‘love’ so badly.</p>
<p>So complex, these emotions.</p>
<p>He twists, sinks two rows of teeth into the prey's shoulder- instinctive, doesn't know why he doesn't just go straight for the soft weak throat. Chew it apart and kill it quickly. </p>
<p>Under the armor <em> (it cracks and fizzles into delicious reiatsu, he drinks it down) </em>there's a scar, and his inner teeth fit into it so perfectly--he bites down, sharp and blunt rows slowly pressing through hierro, then thick muscle- it takes effort, his fingers flex where they lay across the prey's torso. </p>
<p>Grimmjow stares <b>DEATH</b> in the face and then feels the bite into his soul, teeth sharper and hungrier than anything he’s ever faced before and there is no question in his mind that <em> this is it. End of the line. </em>Pantera fits herself tight to him, forcing her way into every crack and crevice he has to stay with him, she is his armour, moulding herself along every contour of his mind. </p>
<p>
  <em> Grimmjow.  </em>
</p>
<p>The hollow jerks, slightly, his jaw locks half shut and does not clamp further. Confusion rips its way through him- did the prey do something? Was it a false submission? </p>
<p><em> No.</em> <em> Go back to your void. </em> The boy's voice whispers, echoed by that accursed fucking sword, the one that drinks him down and filters him through and leaves him unaware of everything. He was made to <em> run free and prey on all lesser beings </em> and the spirit never lets him. He hates it. He only gets to come out when the boy <em> dies </em> and every time his meal is <em> interrupted.  </em></p>
<p>He snarls, muffled, tries to push down on the ribcage and crush his prey quickly, if he's dead maybe the boy will let him eat, feast, <em> consume.  </em></p>
<p>Grimmjow’s reiatsu tears and he is <em> helpless </em> to stop it, the gurgle in his throat is instinctive ‘<em>don’teatme don’tkillme pleasepleaseplease’ </em>he whimpers and his hand is still on the back of the hollow’s head. He pulls at the hair weakly, long tufts of it cut free by his claws but it does nothing to deter the hollow from biting into the meat of his shoulder. It bites over Ichigo’s mark with unerring accuracy and Grimmjow shudders when its teeth press delightfully through the scars. </p>
<p>'<em>Why is he so fucking desperate to get to you?' </em> The hollow chitter-chirps around his mouthful, the blood is so sweet but he can't drink it down properly, his muscles locked up, and he's <em> furious </em> when his arms won't exert pressure. Manages to tear his teeth free with a monumental <em> effort </em>, sits back with a snarl of rage. </p>
<p>Grimmjow’s eyes are wide and unseeing, his entire existence focused on the pressure at his shoulder and the way his reiatsu shreds under the hollows mouth and the steadily increasing pressure on his ribs. He can’t reply with anything coherent. </p>
<p>'<em>I never get to </em> <b> <em>eat</em></b><em>, first the fucking not-sister and now </em> <b> <em>you. </em> </b> <em> Pathetic. You don't deserve his protection and he doesn't even know it. He just wants you </em> <b> <em>happy </em> </b> <em> isn't that so pitiful? He's so stupid. He doesn't know that things like us, all we do is </em> <b> <em>consume.</em></b><em> Doesn't know why you </em> <b> <em>want to eat him</em> </b> <em> or why I want to eat you.</em>' </p>
<p>His croon is cut off with a spasm, a jerk, one hand crawling inexorably up towards his mask. <em> Shut up shut up. You don't belong here. </em></p>
<p><em>'Yes I do!'</em> he speaks it aloud, automatically. '<em>You died, this body is </em><b><em>mine</em></b><em>. Your precious prey-meat killed you, so fucking weak. He doesn't know what love is any more than I do</em><b><em>.'</em></b></p>
<p>The claws curl menacingly and flick into the eyeholes, dangerously close to the actual orbs, catch down and rip through the bone like soft wet meat when it should be like trying to crush marble in one fist. </p>
<p>The last thing he <em> knows </em> is Zangetsu's wicked cackle and sharp maw closing over his existence again, and he paints the sword's eyes black again, but it keeps the cursed yellow centre. One day he and the boy will <em> fuck up </em> and he will start his feast with <em> the little ones, the siblings </em>and work his way along. </p>
<p>He can probably count on this <em> Grimmjow </em>to facilitate another death. Stupid blue is a hollow first and foremost. The boy is dumber than rocks to trust him so many times, even after a literal murder at clawed hands. </p>
<p>Zangetsu shoves him down and he does not think anymore at all. </p>
<p>...</p>
<p>Ichigo lowers his hand, flexes it slowly and is relieved at blunt fingernails. Flashes of violence pass behind his eyes, distant not-memories of what the dragon did. </p>
<p>He looks down, at Grimmjow, and his gaze drags from the deep ragged double layer of teeth marks, the scar he left reopened- up to blue eyes.</p>
<p>"<em>Grimmjow,</em>" he says, slow, soft, like he's simply continuing what he was trying to say before- before it all went so cold and dark, when he couldn't see or breathe at all; "- you're <em> everything. </em> You don't have to be alone at all."</p>
<p>Grimmjow’s hand slips from his hair and lands with a soft thump in the sand next to Ichigo’s thigh. </p>
<p>He feels raw, derailed. “I…” Should he feel relieved? His shoulder throbs and he absently covers the mark with a palm to stymie the blood flow. Should he keep fighting? Try and pull the dead weight of himself out from underneath Ichigo and run? He doesn’t know what to say. </p>
<p>“Why did you leave?” Grimmjow asks, the words fall unbidden from him, and his teeth clack loudly behind them, mouth shut and mild horror in his eyes. Vulnerability obvious. He <em> hates </em> the exposure. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ichigo shudders slightly, he feels - not cold but like his skin is too thin on his body, wants to reach up and wrap his arms around himself, cover his chest, hide his new scars and the old ones. He doesn't, instead he slides the hand that stayed splayed out over Grimmjow's ribs up, to the wound <em> he caused </em> (did he cause it? Was it really him? He doesn't think so) and his hand lights up that sputtering green again, weak and flickering, trying to seal it over, stop the bleeding under Grimmjow's claws. </p>
<p>"Because I was scared that if I stayed you'd be afraid of me." There's more, it's just hard to spit it out of his mouth, his mind wants to clench teeth around it, keep it down. </p>
<p>"And because - I was afraid I was just like the people who hurt <em> me.</em> It was a lot of emotions all at once. I didn't know how to deal with it. So… I ran away. I shouldn't have."</p>
<p>Grimmjow’s eyes skitter away from Ichigo, out into the distant sands, now deformed in glass sheets and waves. “I didn’t mean to kill you.” <em> Not that I even succeeded properly.</em></p>
<p>Ichigo doesn't know what to say to that. </p>
<p>"You're not the first," he manages, then, "-Sorry I couldn't give you a good fight."</p>
<p>He drops the pitiful healing kido, unsure if it actually did anything or if Grimmjow's own healing took on the brunt of the work, but it's mostly stopped bleeding. </p>
<p>“Are you still going to -” Grimmjow stumbles, unsure if he even wants to ask. If he can handle another rejection. </p>
<p><em> I don’t want you anywhere near me, </em> Ichigo might say <em> disappear, disappear into the bones and sand.</em> He doesn’t want to be killed or eaten, he can recover, probably. He’ll go back to Las Noches and lick his wounds and wait for whatever purge the Gotei will eventually bring to his doorstep. But he doesn’t <em> want </em>to do that. He doesn’t want to walk away from Ichigo. </p>
<p>He find brown eyes with his own and forces himself to finish his question, “- to eat me?” </p>
<p>Ichigo has to make himself pause before he spits out a fervent <em> no </em> because, well, the very concept is <em> heinous </em> to him. But he <em> wants to understand </em>and he doesn't want Grimmjow to feel rejected, (again) doesn't want to hurt him. </p>
<p>"You- is that <em> good </em> to you? If I said I wanted to eat you? Because- to me, that sounds like hell. Being eaten, but conscious. Trapped somewhere in someone else's head. I just- want you close to me. But no, I don't want to eat you. I don't want to- take you away from the world, I suppose." </p>
<p>Ichigo scowls a bit, off to the side. He's not good with words like this. But God, he's so <em> tired </em>of them both working at cross purposes. If a bit of an awkward conversation is what's needed, fine. He brings his gaze back and the scowl softens out automatically.</p>
<p>Grimmjow stares back at him in stunned silence. Numbed. Distantly he thinks he might be in some sort of shock. “It means we’ll be together.” </p>
<p>It sounds a bit desperate outloud and he cringes when he says it and tries to backpedal, “I don’t want to be but if that's…” <em> the only option, </em>fuck it still sounds so fucking desperate and needy. It’s horrible. Being eaten. You just become another face in the crowd of nobodies, but it’s… at the very least… “You wouldn’t be able to leave me if I ate you.”</p>
<p>Ichigo leans down, presses their foreheads together, eyes wide in disbelief. Mimics what Grimmjow did all those months ago in the halls of Las Noches. A gentle persistent point of contact. </p>
<p>"Grimmjow," he breathes, keeps his gaze fixed on blue, "- we don't need to eat each other for that. You know you can always find me. I'll- I already leave my body for you whenever you show up looking for a fight. Just because I have--school and a life outside our fights- you're allowed to be a part of that life, if you want that. I love you. You're welcome wherever I am. At any given moment."</p>
<p>He smiles, a weak little thing. <em> Please understand </em> he thinks, wonders how he can reword it to sound- right, to make more sense to Grimmjow. He <em> really means it,</em> he'd be more than happy to- show Grimmjow things that the human world can offer, find a roundabout way to make him try Yuzu's cooking, shove him in a gigai and take him somewhere stupid like a shopping mall and listen to him insult everyone who walks past them. It seems like something Grimmjow would <em> do.  </em></p>
<p>More than happy for Grimmjow to slip into his bed and curl up behind him, press his teeth into the slope of Ichigo's shoulder, <em> have my whole back, I trust you.</em> </p>
<p>Grimmjow feels like he can’t look away from Ichigo if he tried. It’s still not quite clicking in his head, the words don’t line up with Ichigo’s actions, but they’re such <em> nice </em>words and Grimmjow doesn’t really know what he wants, but he does know he would like for those words to be true. But saying that out loud is way too sentimental and Grimmjow’s said enough gross touchy feely things while he was busy thinking about how very dead he was going to be. </p>
<p>He has a quota.</p>
<p>Grimmjow coughs, can’t glance away. “That’s uh. Pretty gay, Kurosaki.” </p>
<p>He pauses, blue eyes peering through darker lashes. Well if Ichigo isn’t going to kill him, and he’s not going to eat him, then…? “You gonna fuck me now?”</p>
<p>Ichigo chokes on a laugh and reels back, shoulders shaking violently as he tries to smother it down, one hand clapping over his mouth. It takes him a moment, and he trembles where he's sitting across Grimmjow's abdomen. Takes a deep breath through his nose and shakily pushes it out through his mouth. </p>
<p>When he's - mostly recovered he leans back down, drops a quick, soft kiss along the line of Grimmjow's mouth. </p>
<p>"Absolutely not. We are in a <em> desert.</em> I don't want sand in me. It's already in my bloodstream, probably, at this point. I got beat up enough, there's <em> no way I avoided it </em> entirely. I don't want sand in my-" He flushes, coughs a little. </p>
<p>Grimmjow’s mouth drops open with an incredulous yelp <em>'whatno Idontunderstand!’ </em> mixed signals again, “Kurosa- Ichigo,” the name is practically a plea and he scowls fiercely in irritation at himself, “I don’t get it! You say love but then you don’t even… Can’t you do it the hollow way? I’ve already <em> got </em> your mark. You <em> won </em>, you’re supposed to-” he flaps a hand, much too long claws making the motion look awkward, at Ichigo in a scrambled attempt to explain. Love is eating or fucking or feeding. </p>
<p>Grimmjow <em> literally can not feel </em> anything below his chest, he can’t feel the weight settled over his stomach, the warmth from Ichigo’s skin or what’s sure to be extensive damage to his legs. His legs don’t work so he can’t <em> hunt </em>, Ichigo doesn’t want to eat him - and expressed near revulsion at the very thought - and he couldn’t eat Ichigo, so there is only one option. (There is vaguely the question of whether he can even get hard right now but there is no clause that states he should get any pleasure out of this, so it isn’t of concern and he brushes it aside). </p>
<p>“I don’t know what else to <em> do,</em>” Grimmjow admits with a small wail, his eyes wide, and suddenly he reaches out to catch hold of Ichigo’s wrist in case Ichigo decides to try to leave and run again.</p>
<p>Ichigo’s gaze is endlessly fond when he pins Grimmjow with it, shushing him gently. He twists his wrist to hold Grimmjow’s hand instead. </p>
<p>"I've sort of just realised I'm half naked in a desert made of bone. I want a <em> shower. </em> And a shirt." Ichigo peers down at himself, frowns a little. Pulls at Zangetsu and bandages--sort of wind around him. There's only a few, but at least he's not flashing Hueco Mundo his chest anymore. </p>
<p>He leans back down and kisses Grimmjow again, properly this time, slowly and kindly, even though Grimmjow is still frozen in some sort of misunderstanding panic underneath him.</p>
<p>Grimmjow’s grip is too tight. He doesn’t <em> feel right, </em> he feels wrong and <em> bad </em> and Grimmjow doesn’t like it, but if this is what Ichigo wants then that should be okay right? It should be fine if he waits. It’s not rejection, it's <em> patience </em> and that's wrong and slow but it’s not: ‘no, I do not want you’. </p>
<p>Ichigo continues slowly, "If you <em> want </em> to have sex, I'm not going to say no. I would, in fact, really like that. On a <em> bed.</em> When we are both <em> not injured. </em> So right now I'm going to throw you over one shoulder like a bad movie cliche and then attempt to open a garganta, where we will go harass Kisuke to heal you up."</p>
<p>Grimmjow nods slowly. No fucking after fighting. Human’s don’t like that, it’s not bad, even if his instincts say it is. It’s like getting lucky, just all of the time. The predator gets distracted and forgets to kill the prey. Lucky is good. Grimmjow tries to reframe it in his mind but it still rolls in his stomach uncomfortably. He does manage to soften his grip though. </p>
<p>Ichigo smiles back at Grimmjow and then points at his tails, limp in the sand, with a raised eyebrow. "They haven't moved once. Your tail- well, both of them now. That's pretty cool, by the way--<em> never </em> stops moving. Can you even feel your toes?" </p>
<p>Grimmjow hums. The comment about his tails is a good distraction. Can he feel his toes? Does he still have them or did the hollow cut his legs off when he wasn’t paying attention. That is a good question. He cranks his head up to peer past Ichigo’s figure. </p>
<p>“The tails are tired,” he lies because he hates admitting weakness. “And I still have my toes.” They are attached to his paws at the end of his legs exactly where they should be.</p>
<p>He drops back to the sand, hissing when the grains grind into his opened spine.</p>
<p>Ichigo rewards him with a highly unamused stare. </p>
<p>"You can't feel them at all, can you? Jesus, and you want to fuck? While you're <em> probably paralysed</em>? You are a force of nature." It's exasperated but fond, and he's careful when he stands not to put any pressure on Grimmjow's body.</p>
<p> “I feel fine, tail is working great,” Grimmjow says. He rolls his head in the sand and notes how faintly the edges of his vision spin a bit with it. He picks up the tail nearest to him -- when did his claws retract? -- and waves it around. He catches the hint that maybe he shouldn’t mention that most of his sexual encounters have been rather excruciating. Not feeling anything is a significantly better result. </p>
<p>"How do you want me to carry you? I don't want to fuck up your spine any further." Ichigo persists, and squats down beside the arrancar, the edges of concern lining his expression. </p>
<p>It’s pretty obvious to both of them that Grimmjow’s tail is not working great so Grimmjow drops it and sighs. “You cut it in half. I don’t think it can get worse. Can you just… bury me over there or something, it might heal in a bit.”</p>
<p>Ichigo stares, entirely bemused. "Or," he states, with all the energy of a very tired father explaining to a persistent toddler that they <em> can not touch the stove while it's on </em>, "-I can take you to the shoten and you can be running around doing hollow-cat stuff and bugging me for another fight within hours! An incredible concept, I know. No burying involved at all."</p>
<p>Ichigo examines him, Grimmjow is <em> long </em>and Ichigo’s height is firmly in the range of average, which makes it a bit more difficult, but he finally settles on scooping him up under the shoulders and the backs of his… most humanoid knees. Those legs are all kinds of bendy. He's careful to get the tails in the attempt, so they don't drag or anything, and huffs slightly. </p>
<p>A little awkward, but not terrible. Beats the time he had to carry Renji like this. Grimmjow in his release form is <em> much </em>lighter. </p>
<p>"OK new plan. Please open a garganta above the shoten, my arms are full of a blue idiot I happen to love, very unfortunate for my sanity."</p>
<p>“You’re being very gentle considering you can’t hurt me right now.” Grimmjow says magnanimously. To be fair everything Ichigo’s doing might be hurting a lot, but with the exception of his missing ear and the shredded part of his spine and the burns along his shoulder and the wounds on his face and chest, and the hundreds of microfractures everywhere, he feels fine. </p>
<p>He reaches out to pull at the fabric between Hueco Mundo and the garganta and pauses. “Are you sure you want to take me back to the human world?”</p>
<p>"The other option is having Nel spit on you. Would you like that? It's really fucking gooey. And thick. Smells sort of like vomit, really." Ichigo says it cheerfully, smiling pleasantly. It's obviously a terrible terrible memory. </p>
<p>"Hime will patch you up. Besides, I'm holding you. If they try and skewer you, they get me in the crossfire. Then I can righteously beat the shit out of them." He pauses again in thought, "Actually there's a point. Let's go to her instead of the Shoten."</p>
<p>Grimmjow thinks, remembers the several times Nel’s vommed all over him and very decisively rips the air open. The portal is more unstable then he expects it to be and his release gives out in the following second, plunging him from whatever new peak he climbed to back to his basic release. The loss of his second tail is <em> agonizing </em>for a second as mutilated nerves try and fail to realign and he bites clean through the tip of his tongue in surprise, spluttering blood everywhere. </p>
<p>Ichigo nearly overbalances when Grimmjow's weight spikes, thicker and heavier in his normal release, but it's the way his eyes roll back for a solid four seconds that makes him <em> sprint </em>, reiatsu a warped pathway under each foot- there's no one following him, he doesn't care to make it stable for anyone else. </p>
<p>"Shit, shit, just- hold on a bit okay? You're fine." He mutters under his breath, a little curl of panic in his gut.</p>
<p>Grimmjow looks up at him, he thinks he must have passed out for a second, then in the direction they are heading, “didn’t mean to have a nap. I feel better now. You can put me down.” </p>
<p>He puts a hand on Ichigo’s sternum to push himself upright and back onto his feet but his brain catches up with him just in time to remember he can’t really feel them at all and he slumps back into Ichigo’s arms like some pathetic damsel. “Hmm, yer really movin’ fast there. Huh.” </p>
<p>The shock is wearing off, he feels very floaty and not so annoyed about everything anymore, though that’s good at least. Ichigo is a very safe and comfy person. “You’re very safe and comfy,” he shares out loud, “like a box.” Cardboard boxes are very safe and comfy. Five walls of safety. Ichigo is the cardboard box of people. Grimmjow snorts on a purr and spits blood to the side. “You gotta turn left to get to the Hime woman.”</p>
<p>Ichigo brakes on his heels. </p>
<p>"Garganta are so fucking weird. Don't spit that, keep the blood in your body." it's not exactly good advice, really, but he's a little anxious. </p>
<p>He's a lot anxious. Fuck. What sort of number did he actually do on Grimm? Why didn't he <em> say something </em>so Ichigo could get him help sooner?</p>
<p>Stupid stubborn hollow. </p>
<p>He pivots directly left and tries his best not to jostle Grimmjow in his arms too much; he keeps moving. </p>
<p>Grimmjow chuckles a little and swallows the next mouthful of blood obediently, cracking open his mouth to show Ichigo like a child showing their mother that they took their medicine. He shoves his hand forwards suddenly and rips the garganta open again in another unstable burst of reiatsu and for a second thinks his resurreccion might give out completely before Pantera stabilizes again. </p>
<p>Ichigo comes out in front of Orihime's apartment, and he's up by her lounge window in an instant, spiking his reiatsu at her-</p>
<p>To her credit, she only drops the one dish, shoving her hands through the skirt of her dress to dry them as she hurries over, drags the window open and she's already calling out her shun shun rikka as Ichigo ducks inside with Grimmjow in his arms. </p>
<p>He smiles at her, and she pins him with a firm, no nonsense look as he lays Grimmjow out on the couch, but she doesn't hesitate to put up a healing barrier around him. </p>
<p>"What the <em> fuck </em>, Kurosaki-kun." </p>
<p>Ichigo motions vaguely with his hands. "It's- uh. Bad fight?" </p>
<p>Grimmjow fixes Kurosaki with a dark scowl. Bad fight? That was a <em> great </em>fight. Minus the stupid emotion stuff. </p>
<p>He swears she rolls her eyes at him, but Grimmjow is already looking much better so he just beams at her in thanks. </p>
<p>Grimmjow thinks that the woman’s healing is really really wonderful, and he nearly says as much before his mental faculties snap back into place and he remembers that A) he hates complimenting people because fuck them, and B) he doesn’t like the woman and the way she always bats her eyelashes and pushes her tits around in front of Ichigo. That’s <em> his </em> prey and she needs to fuck off about it. Grimmjow doesn’t have tits like that and Ichigo said he liked him so <b> <em>HA</em>.</b> </p>
<p>Loser.</p>
<p>There’s a painful heat down Grimmjow’s back when the nerves start reconnecting before the vertebrae are unshattered and Grimmjow snarls a little, he <em> knows </em> she did that on purpose, but he flexes a foot carefully in demonstration for Ichigo and is so pleased when it mostly moves properly that he can’t stop his tail from flicking against the wooden floor in glee. </p>
<p>Ichigo's whole body relaxes slightly when he sees it, and he ignores the glare entirely, privately just too relieved to be bothered with Grimmjow's annoyances. Whatever pissed him off this time, he'll deal with it in a bit. </p>
<p>"<em> Thank you.</em>" Ichigo smiles at Orihime, and pointedly ignores the blush that flares to life over her cheeks, even as she doubles down on her effort to stick Grimmjow back together. Ichigo looks back at Grimmjow, who only manages to hold his gaze for a few short seconds, still smiling and takes a moment to mentally check in on himself. </p>
<p>Fuck, he's tired. His reiatsu is staggeringly low, really, and he just wants to crawl into bed (with Grimmjow) and sleep for three months. </p>
<p>The missing chunk of Grimmjow’s tongue regenerates in his mouth and the stinging in his ear disappears and he decides that enough is enough. He sits up and shatters the little golden orb over him in a rush, “Great I’m fixed now, check Kurosaki, I gutfucked him.” </p>
<p>Ichigo's soft expression turns into a glare, and Orihime goes pale with horror, scrambling to throw up a golden barrier over him, instead. </p>
<p>She pauses, and Ichigo sighs, rubs his temples a bit. </p>
<p>"Uh but. Kurosaki-kun… Has no injuries? Oh but there are scars! I can fix those-" </p>
<p>Ichigo startles, brushes a hand up and cracks the gold energy into shards that vanish rapidly. </p>
<p>"No, Orihime that's fine. Thank you for patching him up, I'm grateful. Really. Sorry for disturbing you."</p>
<p>Grimmjow starts too, <em> no injuries</em>, “Fuck you’re somethin’ else, Kurosaki,” he grumbles, but he can’t fight the small tilt of his lips or the way he ears twitch and his tail curls in pleasure when Ichigo refuses to repair his scars. </p>
<p>Ichigo glares at Grimmjow again. "Tell Hime 'thank you'." </p>
<p>Grimmjow grimaces a little, feeling somewhat chastened, it was mighty good of the woman to fix his legs. He’d be dead without them in not too long. He always pays his debts, “I owe ya one,” he agrees easily, and flicks his tail to brush against Ichigo’s shin and chitters something small, <em> see i’mgood icanbegood. </em> </p>
<p>Whether Grimmjow likes her or not, he knows that she is part of Ichigo’s pack and if he wants even the smallest crumb of attention from Ichigo he has to be nice and deferential to the pack. He doesn’t want to fuck this up, he’s <em> terrified </em> he’ll destroy this thing he wants to keep safe. He meets Orihime’s eyes and ducks his head slightly, and forcefully averts his gaze. It curdles in his gut a little (a lot, he’s <em> so much stronger then her </em>), but Ichigo blinks, shocked, and his mouth softens out again.</p>
<p>Ichigo hums softly, croons in the back of his throat (it makes Orihime jump, startled) <em> 'good good thank you, yes yes you did well you are good.' </em> He is good, Grimmjow is <em> perfect. </em>He reaches out to press the back of his hand against Grimmjow's bare wrist.</p>
<p>Grimmjow relaxes and his release fractures apart around him and back into her sword shape again. He tucks her securely back into the band of his shredded pants and flops unashamedly at how exposed he is, back onto the couch.</p>
<p>Ichigo chuckles too, glances down the line of Grimmjow’s body and realises how poor the state of <em> both </em> their clothing is. It's <em> definitely </em>time to leave, which he signifies to the arrancar with a brusque jerk of his head towards the sky.</p>
<p>He offers Orihime a quick wave and a 'goodnight' and then he's going right back out the window, pausing for Grimmjow to slide out after him, and the pair pause in the air. </p>
<p>Grimmjow’s layer of reishi is thin, crumbly, and brittle. He’s visibly exhausted (though Ichigo can see quite plainly that he is trying to conceal it), and even more visibly uncertain. He’s not sure what comes next. He’s <em> trying </em> to do this the human way, but it’s difficult without knowing what the human way is. </p>
<p>Ichigo hesitates, slightly, then steps fully into Grimmjow's space and presses his forehead to the arrancar's chest. Ichigo winds his arms around Grimmjow’s waist in a loose, easily escaped embrace. It's comfortable, like this. </p>
<p>"Where do you want to go? I- really need some sleep, I think. We can go back to my house, but we'd have to deal with Kon." <em> And goat-face in the morning. </em>"We can go back to Las Noches, if you'd prefer?" </p>
<p>The hug is really nice and Grimmjow sinks into it. He grasps at the back of Ichigo’s shirt and sighs into the warmth, let’s Ichigo hold his weight when the reshi crumbles from under him for a short moment.</p>
<p>“I--” <em> get to pick? I lost and you would let me pick? </em>Grimmjow doesn’t finish, he won’t question Ichigo right now. He’d prefer to go back to Las Noches and curl up in one of the undamaged rooms in his tower but perhaps this is a test and Ichigo wants to know if he’ll put himself or Ichigo first? Ichigo doesn’t seem the type to prefer those kinds of mind games. Grimmjow doesn’t have the strength to test that theory out though. He’d like to sleep too. </p>
<p> “Your territory is good. I am… not a welcomed presence in Las Noches right now.” He justifies, before remembering and stepping back out of Ichigo’s grip, hand flying up to feel across his face. </p>
<p>His mask is normal, a single piece of jawbone along the right side of his face. He glances down. His hole too is a more normal size, still slightly bloated but <em> stable </em> in a way it hasn’t been for months. He can’t bring himself to press at it and test for pain, so his hands hover a little awkwardly over his stomach until he drops them again and looks back at Ichigo.  </p>
<p>Ichigo hums, soft, reassuring, reaches out and laces their fingers together, sleepily. His eyes are half lidded. </p>
<p>He'll just kick Kon out of his bed, tell him to sleep on the couch. He doesn't want to climb back into his body. </p>
<p>"Okay. If you're sure--I really don't mind." He squeezes Grimmjow's hand, gently, smiles. Turns and let's the connection drop between them, hesitating before moving across the sky back to his house, wanting to make <em> sure.</em> </p>
<p>Grimmjow frowns a bit at that. Maybe he’s chosen the wrong answer? Ichigo doesn’t seem upset by his choice, though, so much as exhausted in general. Grimmjow’s not surprised with how low his reiatsu is hovering. That regeneration must be draining. </p>
<p>“I can leave you alone if you want.” Grimmjow doesn’t want to do that. He wants to curl up with Ichigo and sleep but he’d understand if Ichigo wanted to recuperate by himself.  </p>
<p>Ichigo startles, shakes his head quickly- no, he doesn't want that. He wants Grimmjow near him. Wants to curl into him and sleep. Feel safe, comfortable. </p>
<p>"No, I- I want you to stay. Unless--you don't want that?" He presses slightly, brows furrowing. He doesn't want to push Grimmjow into anything, not again. "I just really want to cuddle you, honestly. Doesn't matter to me if it's here or in Las Noches."</p>
<p>Grimmjow nods his head slowly. “Okay. Here.”</p>
<p>Ichigo beams at him, unfiltered and soft, and turns, moving through the air back to the open window of his bedroom across the town. </p>
<p>When he gets there Kon is still up, reading a manga Ichigo really hopes <em> he </em> didn't pay for, and when the mod soul offers his body back Ichigo shakes his head. "Just go sleep on the couch," and then silences any questions with a firm look. </p>
<p>He steps inside as Kon closes the door behind him, and leans over to the desk, flicks the lamp off. Blissfully quiet. </p>
<p>Grimmjow is slightly hesitant to follow Ichigo inside without explicit permission. He shouldn't be. He’s killed Ichigo and Ichigo has nearly killed him. They've proved again and again that they match each other well. Ichigo himself has used the word ‘equals’. But years and years of inequality, of hierarchy, power structures, and Aizen has taught him not to assume such things. He waits on the windowsill, crouched and small. </p>
<p>He’s fucking <em> tired </em> it’s not even a chore to pretend weakness, it simply is. The woman’s healing is good but it is only physical. It does nothing for his massively depleted reiatsu reserves, only patches the hole where Ichigo’s teeth ripped him open. He lifts his fingers to the mark as Ichigo shuts the light off and meanders back to the bed in three easy steps, and he freezes. </p>
<p>She got <em> rid of it. She got rid of his mark! </em> The start of a distressed yowl gets caught in his throat but Ichigo said '<em>not tonight’ </em> so he swallows it down and digs his nails into the muscle for a quick moment. <em> Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. </em>He swallows again and steps over the bed to avoid dirtying the covers with sand and blood. </p>
<p>Did Ichigo notice it was gone? Did he not care? No, he said he cared, fuck <em> stop overthinking it. </em> Stupid. </p>
<p>There are other things to think about, other uncertainties and he tries to distract himself with those instead. Is he allowed to touch the bed? Can he get out of his bloody clothes. Is he allowed to bathe or should he clean himself? Is there punishment for getting the floors dirty?</p>
<p>He never <em> used to care </em> about this shit. He brought a whole ass hollow in here and it destroyed the wood. He has shattered windows and stood on the bed and has been his usual asshole self in here before. But now the stakes are higher and <em> fuck </em>Grimmjow does not want to fuck it up.</p>
<p>“I can’t be bothered showering.” Ichigo speaks and Grimmjow starts so hard he almost stumbles over, “I’m just going to grab us some towels, or something to wipe off with. Are you okay just wearing a pair of my pajama pants? I have some shorts that might fit you, too.” Ichigo hums aloud, looks up at Grimmjow, with his too wide eyes and white knuckled grip on his own shoulder, and pauses.</p>
<p>Oh, the- his skin. Orihime healed the teeth marks he left entirely. </p>
<p><br/>Ichigo moves over semi-instinctively, presses a quick kiss to the edge of the jawbone mask and then shifts to kiss Grimmjow’s knuckles that are protecting where the ring of scars he left <em> was.</em> </p>
<p><br/>“Do you want it back?” He hums, low, sleepy. Content. He still has all the pretty new ones Grimmjow gave <em> him. </em></p>
<p>“<em> Yes yes,” </em> Grimmjow agrees so quickly he flushes, embarrassment and need staining his cheeks and he tilts his head to the side to give Ichigo access. Should he say please? It doesn’t feel necessary but it <em> is </em> a gift, a choice. Does he need to explain why to Ichigo? He’s too frazzled right now. “I gave you many because I’m.. Greedy. But I, just one from you would be…” He stutters out, drops his hand, “I just want <em> one. </em>”</p>
<p>Ichigo nods slightly, drags his cheek against the curve of Grimmjow’s neck before shifting and digging his teeth into the curve of throat-to-shoulder, a little bit of reiatsu making it easy to sink in. </p>
<p>Grimmjow shudders into the press of teeth against his neck and has to bite back a moan lest he sound properly pitiable. His hierro is worn so thin it barely takes any effort for Ichigo to pierce it, but he doesn’t mind. It’s perfect. </p>
<p>Ichigo is careful when he worries at the flesh to make sure it scars, then pulls his teeth free and swallows blood, leans back to gently press his forehead against Grimmjow’s again. <br/><br/>“That okay?” He asks, quiet in the still room, and his fingers come up to trace the three intersecting rings of teeth-scars on his own skin. Soothing.</p>
<p>Grimmjow nods and presses at his mark.</p>
<p>Ichigo huffs, softly, and has to really force himself to take a step back. <br/><br/>“Towels.” He says, eloquently, and then turns to his wardrobe instead, rifling through things until he finds his most elastic pair of sweatpants, the ones that he has to roll up his ankle when he wears them around the house. He hands them to Grimmjow to give the man something to do other than scratch himself open more the Ichigo’s teeth, and then vanishes out of the room, staying as silent as possible, to open the linen closet and retrieve said towels. He’s probably going to have to wash his sheets anyway, but at least with most of the sand and blood off of them, it’ll be more comfortable.</p>
<p>Honestly, Ichigo could probably fall asleep standing up, right now. </p>
<p>Grimmjow waits and pulls at the fabric of the pants. Some restless urge manifesting in the stretch and release of the clothing. He too, is tired right down to his bones. Exhaustion from the fighting and the healing and the growing. But most of it’s from the emotional turmoil today. He locked himself down so tightly he reached numb mindlessness and he maintained that for so long. Too long, maybe. The callous hollow served as protection and now that it’s gone Grimmjow is left reeling. </p>
<p>Overwhelmed and under equipped for dealing with this sort of thing. </p>
<p>He hasn’t been given orders so he stands. </p>
<p>It’s not until Ichigo shuffles something  little loudly in the corridor that he remembers he does <em> follow </em>orders. It takes Grimmjow a few seconds from there to figure out what he needs. </p>
<p>He needs to feel some level of control, exert some level of autonomy over himself before he’ll be able to settle.</p>
<p>He follows Ichigo out of the room. </p>
<p>“Kurosaki?” He keeps his voice quiet, unwilling to wake Ichigo’s siblings, “I want to wash.” He doesn’t ask if he can and he’s unsure if that’s pushing his luck. Pushing the kindness that Ichigo is extending to him. His fingers find his mark again, still fresh and bleeding - his healing factor too exhausted to accelerate the healing process. Half of him expects to be greeted with the weight of great and expansive black reiatsu pushing him down and he locks his knees in preparation just in case. Half of him thinks that it was only ever Aizen who responded like that. Ichigo isn’t Aizen.</p>
<p>Ichigo blinks, slowly, turns and holds out one of the towels. </p>
<p><br/>“Yeah, of course. The bathroom is just that door. The shower shouldn’t wake anyone up, it doesn’t usually.” He gestures to it casually. “Just make sure to put the pants on when you’re done, don’t wander the house naked, please. If I’m asleep when you come out, feel free to just shove me over a bit.”</p>
<p>Grimmjow takes the towel quickly with a small nod of his head, no reiatsu pressing him down, <em> don’t change your mind, </em>and steps back just as quickly. “Right.”</p>
<p>Ichigo smiles, lopsided. He wants Grimmjow to be <em> comfortable. </em> There’s something in his chest that <em> thrills </em> at having him in his home, in his room, like this, with both of them- vulnerable, lacking the snap and bite of their usual interactions. “Be careful with the cold tap, it’s a little finicky.”</p>
<p>Grimmjow nods once and retreats to the room Ichigo directed him towards. He’s weirdly pleased that the water system is the same kind installed in Las Noches. He won’t struggle to operate it. </p>
<p>He’s slow to peel out of his ruined uniform. The jacket and pants are stained horribly but undamaged. They were protected under his armor, maybe. He’s unsure how the clothes always miraculously disappear and reappear during and after resurreccion but it doesn’t bother him. </p>
<p>He shears the uniform off himself anyway, and they drop to a filthy little pile around him and he shoves the shredded clothing into a basket bin, waste disposal next to the small white sink. </p>
<p>He doesn’t care much about what temperature the water runs at, as long as he can scratch the dried blood off. He watches little flakes and specks, sand and guts from under his nails drip down the drain and wash away under the heat and pressure. He could fall asleep here, curled up under the spray until someone saw fit to drag him out. Or until he drowned.</p>
<p>He considers it, looking down at where his human shaped feet balanced him on slippery tiles. They aren’t as good as his paws and personally he doesn’t think they look right, he doesn’t think most of his body <em> looks </em> quite right, not like a hollow, (but Ichigo said he was like <em> Adonis </em>- he still doesn’t fucking know what that means,) but a body is just a tool. Much like the scalding hot water burning through his hair and onto his shoulders, he doesn’t care much about it, can’t waste the energy. Not when there are other, more pressing concerns. </p>
<p>Where will his next meal come from?</p>
<p>Who will try to kill him next?</p>
<p>When will the next betrayal come?</p>
<p>Grimmjow is too tired for thoughts like this, still he crouches in the tub, arms braced around his legs and face pressed into his knees. Under the rush of the water no one can hear him break. </p>
<hr/>
<p>Ichigo moves back into his bedroom- pushes the door mostly closed and strips down, drags the towel over his skin. It does a pretty good job, and he’s a little horrified by how grimy he <em> really was </em>, but with a quick inspection he’s happy enough with his cleanliness level to pull on a pair of shorts, abandons his tattered hakama, the only things that really survived. </p>
<p>He opens the door again, too tired to bother with a shirt as well, (he doesn’t really want to wear anything at all, if he’s going to be honest,) and then tucks himself into the bed with a sigh, listening absently to the sound of the shower running, heavily muffled by the walls. He tucks himself until he’s pressed up against the wall, facing it, back turned to the rest of his room. His eyes dip half closed, <em> so </em> exhausted.</p>
<p>Grimmjow stumbles in forty minutes later, officially too done to do anything but pass out somewhere and sleep until his reiatsu levels stabilize somewhere back around survivable. There’s no ambient reishi in the air and somehow despite the battle, Ichigo is still shedding it like he can’t possibly have enough. </p>
<p>He did, somehow remember to put the sweatpants on, they’re warm and keep the humid air trapped against his reddened skin. His exposed upper body feels cold immediately after leaving the shower and he keeps himself wrapped in the towel like a blanket. It’s stupidly fluffy even when wet.</p>
<p>Ichigo is long since unconscious and Grimmjow is too tired and empty, like his insides have all been scooped out, to even stress about moving him. He crawls inelegantly over him and flops down on top of the comforter, wedged between the wall and forcing as much space between himself and Ichigo as he can. The towel stays tightly wrapped around his shoulders and he even keeps his wet hair off the pillow. He’s unconscious before he can think about anything else.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You're in front of me, always in my sight.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ichigo wakes abruptly, years of having it quite literally beaten into him sending him into consciousness in only two blinks. He pauses; he can’t hear the footsteps of his father approaching, so he relaxes again, slowly, tucks his face back down into Grimmjow’s shoulder.</p><p>He feels much better, now that he’s slept for at least a few solid hours, and he doesn’t much want to unwind himself from the odd tangle of limbs he’s managed to attain in his sleep. </p><p>Oh. Wow, Grimmjow is <em> really comfortable, </em> Ichigo didn’t expect that so much. Grimmjow’s skin is usually like steel, capable of catching Zangetsu in the palm of his hand. It’s unmalleable to the touch. Now he’s… soft. Still heavy muscle though. Ichigo is smaller too. That’s a little weird. He’s so used to standing in the air or bearing down on people (though never Grimmjow, the bastard always has to be above him)  with his sword he’s forgotten that Grimmjow is twice as damn broad in the shoulders as he is, and a good bit taller than him, too. </p><p>It makes the way he’s folded himself under Grimmjow’s arms startlingly more satisfying, though, the hollow’s chin on his head, a little sharp, and one of his legs jammed between Ichigo’s thighs.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe it was a dual effort of their asleep selves. He doesn’t really care; he’s <em> so comfortable. </em> Calm and contained.</p><p>After a while he squirms a bit, presses his face up against Grimmjow’s neck, curious. He doesn’t seem close to waking up, quite limp in the bed, the arm draped over Ichigo’s shoulders heavy.</p><p><em> He needs more food, </em>something hisses at him, low and providing, and he starts leaking reiatsu almost unconsciously, feeding more into the air around them, and it doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep again, just like that.</p>
<hr/><p>Grimmjow shifts, just barely to curl more tightly around the heater in his bed, distantly he knows it’s Kurosaki keeping him warm, pulling him back from whatever edge he threw himself off. He should probably care, but all he can recognize is that he feels safe and warm. Las Noches has never offered that. </p><p>Ichigo, though. Oh fuck<em> Ichigo. </em>He’s like the goddamned sun. His sun. Sunshine. There’s a song like that, he half remembers.</p><p>“Hey-” he breathes before slipping back into dreams of lush forests and Pantera at his side. </p><p>…</p><p>…</p><p>…</p><p>When he wakes up again, for more than a half a second, the moon is early in its rise across a night sky, the sun just barely kissing the horizon. 24 hours later or longer? Grimmjow is unsure. The bed is empty and Grimmjow bolts right up, a panicked rush of air leaving his lungs and vertigo setting in for half a second after so long spent prone. </p><p>“Ichigo?” His head whips up, hair dried awkwardly, and is greeted by a bewildered brown stare from the boy at the desk. </p><p>“Yeah?” Ichigo replies, blinking a little. “Are you okay?” </p><p>He drops the orange he was slowly peeling and the little knife he was using onto a plate in front of him and moves back to the bed, automatic. He’s wearing a shirt, now, and the light from his desk lamp illuminates the room in a soft orange-yellow glow. </p><p>Ichigo’s knees sink into the mattress and he hums. He’s showered- smells vaguely of the floral soap he likes stealing from Karin.</p><p>Grimmjow blinks, looks away to scan the room, then check out the window. There’s nothing dangerous nearby, no hollows, no shinigami. He… he thinks. His pesquisa is--</p><p>“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be.” Grimmjow turns back to Ichigo in a great show of cracking his joints, rolling from one hand, up the wrist, shoulder, neck and then down the other side. </p><p>“I feel” stiff, sore as fuck, tired still somehow after sleeping at least 18 hours, “good. You got food?”</p><p>Ichigo rolls his eyes, huffs out a laugh and tucks his legs up under himself.</p><p>"Don’t think I have any hollows laying around, but there’s a bunch of fruit if you want it? I just brought the whole bowl in to snack on while I study.” His gaze softens, again, back from amusement to something a lot like adoration. “You sure you’re good? Feeling better? How’s your reiatsu?”</p><p>Grimmjow makes a face at the offering, “You a vegetarian, Kurosaki? Where's the meat?”</p><p>His reiatsu is paper thin and they both know it.</p><p>Grimmjow throws his sweatpant clad legs over the side of the bed and drags himself and his towel blanket to the edge nearer to Kurosaki to peer judgmentally at the bowl of fruit. There’s stuff in here he only recognises as a faint long lost partially recalled memory. Nothing grows in Hueco Mundo. </p><p>Ichigo rolls his eyes slightly, nudges at Grimmjow with his elbow. “I didn’t want to cook anything. I can heat up some leftovers from dinner for you, if you want. Yuzu made lamb. You missed pretty much the whole day.”</p><p>And wasn’t <em> that </em> a treat, having to explain to his father why he could <em> not </em> wake Grimmjow up with a drop-kick and a scream of ‘ <em> future son in law!’,</em> like that’s the most normal thing to do. Karin hadn’t cared, at least, but Yuzu was so <em> sweet,</em> poking her head in despite being unable to see Grimmjow except for a hazy blur, asking if he was okay, if they needed water or tea? She could make some soup if ‘ <em> Ichi-nii’s boyfriend is feeling unwell?’ </em></p><p>Ichigo would definitely kill for her. No questions asked.</p><p>He shoves a pear into Grimmjow’s hand. “Bite it. Not the stem. And don’t eat the very core, it tastes like shit.”</p><p>Grimmjow tosses it up and down, reflexes slow, fingers unwilling to close as firmly around the fruit as he would like. He contemplates it for a moment before shoving it between his teeth and holding it there so he could wrap the towel back around himself. He’s cold now after having Ichigo next to him. The pear is <em> stupidly bland </em> and Grimmjow coughs around it surprised. From the scent in the room, he thought it was going to be sour and acidic. Instead it tastes like cardboard with a weird crunch texture and lots of water. </p><p>Ichigo snickers at the shocked expression on Grimmjow's face, stands up and then sits back down in his desk chair. He scrapes one hand through his hair and then frowns, tugs at the ends of it. It's starting to get in his eyes. He should cut it soon. </p><p>Ugh. He goes back to peeling his orange and separating it out into the individual segments. </p><p>"Wanna try another one?" He asks. </p><p>Grimmjow hacks again and then stubbornly takes another bite despite the way that his gut churns in an uncomfortable way that indicates he’s probably going to have to shit a lot later. </p><p>“No.” It’s okay, he can wait until some small fry clambers into the world to find his dinner. </p><p>Ichigo grins widely, incredibly amused by the sheer stubborn impetus that seems to keep Grimmjow going despite every damn thing in the world (all three worlds, really) telling him to fuck right off. It’s impressive as hell, really. Still- he probably shouldn’t be eating human food. <em> Where is it even going? </em> His gaze drops briefly to the arrancar’s hollow hole, and he shakes his head, turns back to the open book and plate of orange slices.<br/>
<br/>
“Well, alright.” Ichio hums. “Did you want me to heat up the leftovers or no?”</p><p>Grimmjow squints at him a little suspiciously, eyes flickering down to the shitty little piece of fruit in his hand and then back up, “It’s got meat in it or is it more of this shit?” He catches Ichigo’s not so subtle glance at his hole and follows his gaze a bit confused. </p><p>“I’m fine.” It’s still a little wide but he pulled himself pretty uncomfortably apart, he’s mostly sure it’ll go back to normal in not too long. More food can’t hurt it, but time is probably all he needs. But… He’s said he’s fine too many times today, Ichigo is going to stop believing him at some point. “Bring me the leftovers, slave!” He demands instead with all the divine right bestowed upon his title as King. </p><p>Ichigo raises one eyebrow, slowly, gaze flat and entirely unimpressed, but he shoves the orange slice he's holding into his mouth. </p><p>"No, it's meat and rice. Not fruit. Call me slave again and I'll make sure to spit in whatever you eat." He motions threateningly, two fingers to his own eyes, then turns them to point at Grimmjow before getting up from his chair and quietly exiting his room, heading downstairs to heat the dinner back up in the microwave. </p><p>He can't keep the fond smile that pulls at his face tucked away when he exits; it's stupid, but he's glad to see Grimmjow acting - well. Like his ego is a supermassive black hole. Normal. </p><p>Grimmjow jeers when Ichigo leaves the room, feeling victorious and exhilarated. If he had a heart it would be pounding a mile a minute within the confines of his chest. <em> Fuck, </em> he can not believe Kurosaki let him get away with that. Spit in his food. <em> Ha</em>, as if Grimmjow hasn’t wanted Ichigo to stick his whole tongue down his throat for a while now. </p><p>He kicks his feet against the floor in a little <em> taptaptaptap </em>victory stomp to get the extra adrenaline out before flopping back again the bed, hand feeling out for Pantera who slipped free from his waistband - or maybe Ichigo pulled her free - and finding her near the other side of the bed. He’d probably been on top of her when he woke up. He should apologise to her at some point too. He closes his eyes and tries to listen for her. She’s there, but quiet. Still tired probably. He leaves her alone for right now and heaves himself back up to amuse himself with whatever Ichigo has on his desk. </p><p>He blinks at it, cocking his head to the side and squints down at the pages, shoving through them a little harshly with his index finger. It <em> looks </em> like a lot of words. Some sort of book of information that Kurosaki is curious about. It’s boring for Grimmjow, there’s no pictures, and he passes it over in place of exploring the little tins of pencils and ink pens in a little hand decorated pot. He reaches for it, dumping the content out onto the desk with a decisive flick of his wrist and then leans back down on the bed, flipping the pot over in his hands. </p><p>It’s a little glass thing that Grimmjow can’t even fit a hand inside, even after dislocating his thumb and he scowls when he has to pop it back into place after his unsuccessful attempt. It’s wrapped in colourful paper, red and yellow and blue stripes and then absolutely covered in the most hideous green and pink glitter that didn’t even properly stick to all the glue. It is very ugly, Grimmjow decides, and it’s almost certainly got some weird sentimentality attached to it. Ichigo should throw it out. </p><p>Grimmjow glances at the window and lifts a leg over his head to shove it open with his toes and dispose of the pot on Ichigo’s behalf. Let’s see if <em> this </em>gets an angry reaction. </p><p>"Dude," Ichigo says, holding a bowl of food in his hands, the door pushed half open with his foot. </p><p>"What are you <em> doing</em>?" Ichigo doesn't sound angry, just really bemused, taking in the odd position Grimmjow is in, his pencil cup gripped in his hands, the pens scattered over his stuff, the leg bent all the way over his head.</p><p>He shuffles in and knocks the door closed again, sets the bowl and chopsticks down on the empty corner of the desk, and starts absently gathering all his pens up again, frowning when he notes the different page number of his book. </p><p>"Can I have that back now please?" Ichigo hums, still honestly very lost as to what he walked in on. "I promise that whatever it said to you, it didn't mean it." He teases, absently. Karin used to get really mad at inanimate objects when she was younger. It's a habit, now, to gently mock anyone in the house who flips out at technology or any non sentient thing in general. </p><p>“It’s ugly,” Grimmjow replies nonchalantly, glancing sideways at the window. Should he just throw it? He looks back at Ichigo, slowly moving his hand, and the pencil holder in it, towards the window. <em> Ichigo might not notice if I move reeeeeally slowly,</em> is the logic he’s operating under. </p><p>Ichigo squints, one hand full of pens and pencils, the other gesturing at the arrancar.  "Grimm, I can <em> see you.</em> Don't throw it out the- don't! I <em> will </em> hold your food hostage. I'll trade you the food for the glass, c'mon." </p><p>Grimmjow glares at him for that, and clicks his tongue derisively. He considers hurling the ugly pot directly at the wall and stealing the plate of food when Ichigo heroically dives to save it. He snorts shakes blue hair off his forehead and drops the pot on the bed next to him instead. He hopes it’ll bounce and break on the floor, and reaches for the bowl of food. “Whatever. You said you’d feed me, you going back on your word Kurosaki?” Whatever it is smells better than the fruit, that’s for sure. </p><p>Ichigo motions his free hand over the bowl, a circling gesture; "-This? Is all I have as leverage for you to not chuck my pen glass out the window. I don't want to have to go find it or clean it up later. I don't have anything else to put them in unless I steal a mug from the kitchen. So hand it over and you'll get your food, you incorrigible <em> feline.</em>" </p><p>There's still no true anger in his voice, he's still much more bemused, and honestly- this is sort of funny. He doesn't know if Grimmjow is trying to rile him up on purpose or something, but it's closer to the friendly banter he used to have with Tatsuki than to the frustration-inducing wild card behaviour Grimmjow usually exhibits. Like the one time he came in and shredded all of Ichigo's pillows because Ichigo wasn't able to fight him straight away. </p><p>Grimmjow narrows his eyes at Ichigo and with a <em> boom </em> sonido’s the food out from under Ichigo’s hand and Grimmjow slams to a stop with his back to the closet doors, the bowl cradled possessively against his chest. He’s <em> fucking starving </em> over here, (admittedly he is always starving), and Ichigo is lording it over him, so fuck that. </p><p>Lips peel back to reveal a flash of sharp teeth, “go get your own stupid pot back.” </p><p>Ichigo blinks, hair pushed back by the rush of air that accompanied that movement, and for a second his fingers flick towards the badge that rests next to his textbook. His human body is weak, slow, has trouble perceiving movement that quick but- he wants to trust Grimmjow. </p><p>Grimmjow glares for another moment before deciding very magnanimously that he’s going to forgive Ichigo and eat instead. He digs the chopsticks into the meat and rice - curry - stabbing a chunk of food right through and shoves it into his mouth. Warily he eyes Ichigo. He left Pantera on the bed with the pot. He leans back casually against the wardrobe doors, bare shoulders on cool wood. </p><p>Ichigo rolls his eyes at the arrancar, and grabs the pot, shoves his writing utensils back into it and puts the whole thing back on the desk. </p><p>Tatsuki made it. He really only kept it because of how much she <em> hated </em>it, like really genuinely hated it. The whole class made them, most gave them to their parents, but Tatsuki didn't want to give her mother something so ugly so she foisted it off on Ichigo. </p><p>So, of course, he's kept it for years just to watch her face twist whenever she enters his room and sees it. If it did break, she'd probably be thrilled, but he doesn't talk to her much anymore. </p><p>So. It doesn't really matter at all. </p><p>Even so, Ichigo sits back down at his desk, shoves another orange slice between his teeth and turns his textbook back to the page he was reading before he left the room, back turned to Grimmjow to let him eat in peace. </p><p>Grimmjow chuffs at Ichigo once, then ignores him in favour of shoveling meat into his mouth. He largely ignores the rice. He was right, it is much better than the fruit with its bland flavour and odd texture. He leans quietly against the door as he eats until boredom and curiosity rear their heads again. He’s been asleep too long and he feels cramped and agitated, and still not yet ready to leave the den. </p><p>He suddenly and inexplicably misses his pack. </p><p>They’d all bundle up in a cuddle pile that Grimmjow hopefully doesn’t end up on the bottom of and it would be warm and protective. Just them for a while, hiding out while they recover. Di Roy would have almost certainly already earned a punch to the back of the head at this point for being a general nuisance if he pulled even half the shit Grimmjow was getting away with right now. Little shit. </p><p>He aggressively spears a piece of human meat.</p><p>“What are you doing.” Grimmjow asks Ichigo flatly to chase away the memories, eyeing up the pages of his book. </p><p>Ichigo stretches slightly, glances over his shoulder. </p><p>"Studying." He hums, but turns slightly in his chair to put his full attention onto Grimmjow, curious. "Is the food good, at least?" </p><p>Grimmjow want’s to ask <em> what </em> he’s studying but he settles for shrugging his shoulders and leaning back heavily against the closet so its doors rattle. He tucks one foot behind the other and spears himself another piece of meat with a single chopstick. </p><p>He speaks with his mouthful, “pretty good yeah,” is a fucking lie, it’s so much better than raw rancid hollow Grimmjow might never leave just for this reason. Grimmjow isn’t a picky eater by a long shot, but if he could live off of this instead of hollow he would. Unfortunately the meat Kurosaki’s given him doesn’t actually have any reishi in it, so there’s little nutritional value beyond enjoying the taste and feeling a little physically fuller. </p><p>It’s also keeping him relatively warm. </p><p>The room has cooled dramatically now that the sun has slipped below the horizon again, and the warmth the bowl emanates is nice. He keeps it cupped between his palm and his bare chest. It burns, just barely, through what’s left of his hierro at the direct points of contact. </p><p>“Why are you studying?” Grimmjow asks again, hoping he can piece the information backwards. </p><p>Ichigo squints a little, smiles sideways and slow. Yuzu's cooking is <em> amazing </em> but he won't press Grimmjow for a more detailed opinion. Eventually Yuzu will get her hands on him, and then it'll be all over, because Zangetsu is <em> nothing </em>compared to the patented Yuzu Puppy Eyes. Not a single person can resist them. </p><p>"The information will probably come up in my exams. If I wanna pass I have to answer the questions on the test right, and I need to pass to graduate, so." He shrugs slightly, glances back at his book. He's honestly not really feeling like reading, anymore, now that Grimmjow is awake. (He was starting to get worried. 18 hours and nothing more than bleary blinks and one word breaths before the arrancar lost his grip on wakefulness. He thought he’d need to contact Hat’n’clogs for help.)</p><p>Grimmjow frowns because Ichigo’s answer doesn't help him at all. Blue eyes flicker back to the page for a moment and he frowns further when he can’t even make a guess based on the very few diagrams. His lip twitches into something slightly closer to a scowl and he looks away quickly. </p><p>“Sounds dumb.”</p><p>"It is pretty dumb, really." Ichigo admits and turns the page.</p><p>Grimmjow gives up completely on his line of questioning at that and redirects his attention back down to his still warm bowl to fish around for any remaining goodness, but it’s all soggy rice and sauce. It took the edge off pretty well. He walks the two steps closer to Ichigo and plops it back on the edge of the table where he stole it from and grunts a noise that could mean ‘thanks.’</p><p>Grimmjow rocks his weight from one foot to the other for a moment, uncomfortable, before stepping back around Ichigo and scooping his towel blanket back up to wrap around his shoulders. He presses his back into the top corner and scoops Pantera into his lap, not bothering to muffle his yawn, eyes squeezing shut and tongue curling, all of his teeth on display for a moment before his external jaw clicks shut and he blinks his eyes back open again. He leans his head against the wall and glances around the room aimlessly. </p><p><em> Now what? </em> Grimmjow doesn’t know. This whole situation isn’t something he’s been able to predict. Ichigo doesn’t <em> act </em> like he expects him to and he’s not sure what the next steps are. He glances at the still open window, lips twitching down. Should he leave?</p><p>Ichigo’s gaze tracking Grimmjow as he moves across the room. He’s soft smile - coaxed by the unexpected ‘thanks’ warming his features. He’s quiet for a moment before abandoning his work entirely and following the hollow to the bed. </p><p>Again, the push of his reiatsu is automatic, it just <em> leaks </em>out of him when something clicks in his head where. There are no words, only abstract concepts, the innate knowledge that Grimmjow still needs something to fill his reserves with. Ichigo tilts his head a little as he kneels on the mattress, but doesn't come closer yet. Pantera is a line of danger across Grimmjow's lap. </p><p>"Anything else I can do?" Ichigo asks, offers, wonders if Grimmjow wants to leave. (<em> Wants to leave without him, that hurts a little.</em>)</p><p>But Grimmjow is already slumping into the soothing, blanket weight of Ichigo’s reiatsu on his shoulders. Without that jagged untamable red rough edge - a sensation Grimmjow relishes in - Ichigo feels like a safe haven. Like a secluded cavern in Hueco Mundo’s cave system where Grimmjow can curl up without fear of being discovered and eaten while he recovers. </p><p>Grimmjow’s gaze darts across Ichigo’s features. He wants to lean into his warmth, mouth along <em> his </em>marks and sink his teeth back into their familiar grooves, to wrap his arms around Ichigo and hold on. He wants Ichigo to kiss him. He wants Ichigo to tell him how humans do this. How they dance around each other seemingly without any sort of hierarchy, no distinction between the strongest and the others and therefore no rules. </p><p>Aizen’s leadership style was incredibly laissez-faire. With the exception of organising the Espada and delegating missions, he was content to leave the hollows to squabble amongst themselves and organize according to the laws of power. Whether it was a courtesy or that Aizen simply <em> didn’t care </em> what his army did is still somewhat of a mystery to Grimmjow. Since Aizen’s defeat, Grimmjow is slowly becoming more and more aware of his own delusions surrounding the shinigami and his war.</p><p>Regardless, his permissive, or perhaps apathetic leadership did not extend to his private relationship with Grimmjow. The rules and boundaries were clearly defined and the punishment for violating them was steep.</p><p>Luppi was arguably worse, though significantly more concerned about the threat Grimmjow posed to him, even when Grimmjow was impaired. Luppi’s fear made him cruel and paranoid. He was fickle and unpredictable, being near him was like balancing on glass. Even if Grimmjow <em> tried </em> to follow his rules - a mistake he only made once - Luppi would change them on him. </p><p>Ichigo isn’t like that. </p><p>So far. </p><p>Grimmjow pulls his knees a little higher in a semblance of a barrier between himself and Ichigo, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. He <em> wants </em>to trust Ichigo and that’s probably the most dangerous thing. If he lets his guard down and Ichigo takes advantage… One misstep is all it can take to end up dead in a hollow world. </p><p><em> Anything else I can do? </em> So many things, Ichigo. He can fucking explain this shit to Grimmjow for one. Or they can skip the chatter and go right to fucking, Grimmjow wouldn’t be opposed to that either, not after their fight. </p><p>“Tch, no.” Grimmjow glances away, back out the window but keeps Ichigo firmly in his periphery. </p><p>Ichigo hums in understanding and doesn't look away. </p><p>Grimmjow is on his bed. </p><p><em> Full circle,</em> he thinks, a little stunned, but it hasn't really closed into a loop yet. It's still happening, still arcing, whatever this is. He wants it to work- desperately so. </p><p>"What happened? After I died." <em> After you killed me,</em> he doesn't say; mostly because he can't bring himself to wrap his mind around the sharp pointy facts of it, partly because he really doesn't hold it against Grimmjow in the slightest. (He felt half mad with worry and self hatred. He has no room to judge what Grimmjow did, not really, not when his own thoughts turned to darker things.)</p><p>But he <em> is </em> curious, because Ulquiorra was one thing- he didn't have a <em> choice </em> there, he <em> had to survive </em> or everyone would be in <em> so much danger. </em>Would probably have died- (possibly. Kisuke would probably have pulled something out of his stupid hat.) </p><p>But Grimmjow- there was no driving urge to <em> survive him </em>or to even, really, fight him. He didn't want to. He was confused and angry; but not murderous. So- </p><p>He doesn't know why he didn't <em> stay </em> dead. Wonders absently if <em> acid green flash, one finger </em> will become synonymous with <em> grip on his insides, crushes, meat oozes out between clawed fingers like pulping a soft fruit, pulls out and he hits white armor on the way down when his legs give out and then there's slow agony and creeping chill and he can't see.  </em></p><p>“You mean after I murdered you.” Grimmjow says and it’s all sharp and biting. Shoulders hitching upwards, cornered. <em> Be mad. Be fucking furious Kurosaki! Why aren’t YOU! </em> His head snaps around to pin Ichigo with a sneer. “Did you <em> forget </em> that part? We had a fucking tea party and braided eachother’s hair, what the fuck do you <em> think </em> happened, huh?!” </p><p>Ichigo knows. Of course he does. He woke up on top of Grimmjow’s mangled, defeated body. He woke up to Grimmjow <em> begging </em> to be eaten, to be unmade. What <em> happened </em> is that he lost. Like he always does.</p><p>Ichigo watches, quiet, as Grimmjow snarls, some sort of defeated anger in his gaze. He waits for a moment, brows drawn together in a half-scowl, not quite the usual dark expression he wears as his second skin, but something closer to confusion. </p><p>"You won," he says, slowly, "I remember that I couldn't see anything at the end, there, and I was. I was <em> dying.</em> Dead. Everything stopped but not only did it stop, I didn't have any concept of the stopping. It just. I didn't <em> feel </em> or <em> think </em> or <em> exist.</em> There was no me. And then you said you loved me; I think, and there was me again because I heard it, which is fucking stupid. It's - hazy. And then I opened my eyes and the mask was dissolving around my face and you were bleeding everywhere." </p><p>He lifts his hand to the back of his head, sheepish, face twisting to embarrassment. "I don't even really remember what I said to you, straight after. Just that I was- you felt alone and resigned. I didn't like that at all; you're - you make more sense to me when you're angry about something, or when you're thrilled to fight, or complaining. Hell, it even feels more natural for you to sulk about something I told you not to do, than to feel-- defeated." He hums, decides that sounds <em> correct. </em></p><p>"Victory is something that almost seems like a second skin on you. Even when you lose, you're still somehow victorious. But I remember the rest of the conversation, I think, from you asking me why I left." </p><p>He flicks his gaze sideways, over to the window. Stares out of it for an absent moment. </p><p>"Didn't you get what you wanted? You've always talked about killing me. You're the first to do it that quickly and effectively- you beat the <em> shit </em> out of me. I couldn't even call up my mask. Ulquiorra outclassed me entirely back then, but you- were just <em> better.</em>"</p><p> He wonders if Grimmjow lasted longer than the fourth espada against the- death incarnation, the thing he can't name or pull on and the one Shiro never talks to him about, the one that leaves nothing but flickers in his mind. A sense of wrongness. He was definitely dead- he felt his body shutting down. </p><p>
  <em> He didn't actually expect to wake up.  </em>
</p><p>He feels a little sick, now, but still not angry. Should he be? He- doesn't think so. Not really. Even if Grimmjow ate him- it makes sense to <em> Shiro,</em> but the hollow doesn't translate as to <em> why </em>it makes sense, just a vague mix of a purr of adoration and a whimper of hate-fear. </p><p>Ichigo shrugs slightly, looks back at him. "I love you. It's that simple, for me, I guess. But ask anyone who knows me, they'll tell you I'm an idiot." </p><p>There's a tired, well worn aspect of self-deprecation packed in there, but he doesn't really care to try and layer it up all pretty and hide it. </p><p>"But- Grimmjow. You <em> need to know. </em> That thing wasn't me. You won. Fair and square, you won. You killed me, whatever happened afterwards- that thing is not <em> me,</em> didn't come from me<em>.</em>"</p><p>Grimmjow growls, lifts a foot and <em> shoves </em> Ichigo off the edge of the bed. It’s not a gentle shove by any means but it is restrained. </p><p>Ichigo collapses over the side without a sound, already planning his retort to Grimmjow’s inevitable <em> stupid </em>tantrum.</p><p>“You’ve got <em> shit </em> for <b>brains</b>, Kurosaki, you don’t get it. I turned you to fucking <em> mince </em> and I didn’t even fucking try. You didn’t <em> fight.</em> You promised me. So what? Huh? Huh!? We gonna sit here talking shit and arguing fucking <em> semantics,</em> I know where I ended up Kurosaki and I don’t need you fucking rubbing my face in it. You either pull on your fucking big boy pants and...” </p><p>Ichigo’s eyes roll in annoyance- Grimmjow talks so much shit and never seems to listen.</p><p>Grimmjow pauses in his tirade, leaning over the edge to glare down, eyes glinting in the low light, reflective and predatory.</p><p> “What did you say?”</p><p>Grimmjow leans further, one hand reaching out to snatch at the cotton of Ichigo's shirt near his shoulder and haul him back upright onto his knees so they’re face to face. He stares at him for a moment, gaze darting across his face before something clicks. </p><p>
  <em> Oh.  </em>
</p><p><em> Ichigo is an idiot. </em>An idiot who isn’t really a hollow, and isn’t really a shinigami, and isn’t really a human. And as a result he’s really bad at being all three. </p><p>Grimmjow is stupid too, but he’s not gonna let Ichigo know that.</p><p>Grimmjow sighs, defensive anger evaporating on his breath. </p><p>“God, you piss me off,” and then biceps flex and he pulls Ichigo clean off the ground and back onto the bed by his grip on his collar. </p><p>Ichigo scowls at the hollow when he feels the fabric at his throat pulls taut, and then makes a soft noise of surprise when he’s lifted uncomfortably, cloth making a strained stretching noise in Grimmjow’s grip and the back of his shirt pulling painfully at his shoulders.</p><p>Grimmjow drops him only when all of Ichigo’s long limbs are mostly back on the mattress and then there's approximately 80 kilos of pure hollow muscle flopping on top of him. “I’m tired and I’m going back to sleep.” He says in a tone that brokers no room for argument and shoves his face a little closer to the crook in Ichigo’s neck. If he breaths a little deeper, unwinds a little more than he usually would, he’s not pointing it out. </p><p>This argument is <em> over. </em></p><p>“If you even <em> try </em> bite me I will rip off all your toes and feed them to you,” Grimmjow threatens for good measure.</p><p>“You’re- so fucking weird.” Ichigo manages, finally, reminded of the last time Grimmjow shoved him off his own bed with his foot. </p><p>“I’m not going to bite you unless you ask.” He huffs, tilts his head a little to make it more comfortable for Grimmjow to put his <em> whole face against,</em> and cautiously wraps his arms around strong shoulders. When Ichigo receives no backlash, a breath against his throat and nothing more, he relaxes, squirms a little so he’s not being crushed so much on one side. </p><p>“Stay the hell away from my toes, either way.”</p><p>“Maybe I got a thing f’r toes,” Grimmjow replies immediately, but it’s already a little more slurred then he’d like and his eyes are already mostly closed, he’s <em> tired,</em> “I want ta be under th’ blankets.”</p><p>Ichigo squints a bit, manages to reach over to one side and grab the edge of the blankets, still sort of folded together, and tug them over them both with a small grunt of effort. He doesn’t quite manage to flick it over their feet as well, but Grimmjow doesn’t exactly seem willing to get off him so he can actually pull the blankets around fully, so he can either do it himself or deal.</p><p>He’s semi-hidden, under the bigger man, and it makes something warm and comforted curl in his chest and throat.<br/>
<br/>
“Your toe fetish will go forever unsated and unappreciated.”</p><p>“What ‘bout my vore fetish?”</p><p>Ichigo is silent for a moment. “I think I’ve catered to that<em> way </em>too much lately, so also no. Put that away.”</p><p>“Spoil sport.” Grimmjow murmurs, but his lips quirk and he playfully presses the flat of his teeth against Ichigo’s skin. </p><p>“You have given me <em> three </em> fucking bite scars, fuckssake, at least wait til I am out of my slow-healing human body.” He scoffs, but he’s actually getting quite sleepy, comfy under here, under Grimmjow, lizard brain purring that he’s safe and held close. </p><p>“Ya basically begged fer ‘em,” Grimmjow argues, because that’s what he does even though it’s wholly untrue. He snuggles a little closer to Ichigo, eyes slipping shut and breath slowing. One of his hands shoves itself under Ichigo’s ribs, chasing the extra warmth Ichigo’s human body emits like a furnace. Maybe he feels colder than usual because his reiatsu has all gone missing and it usually keeps him warm?</p><p>Ichigo bleeds reiatsu again- it keeps happening whenever he’s <em> relaxed </em> and Grimmjow is <em> there </em> and it’s almost getting kind of annoying, but he doesn’t bother trying to exert any of his pitiful control over it. If it attracts a hollow, all well and good, he can blame Grimmjow and then kick the arrancar out the window to go fight and eat it. (He will watch, of course, to make sure Grimmjow doesn’t get hurt; not because he’s weak, but because Ichigo is overprotective and Grimmjow is a <em> precious person.</em>)</p><p>“Did fucking not. You just got weirdly horny about my shoulder and then even hornier about my back. That’s all on you.” His voice is softer, now, eyes closed. Can’t be bothered opening them. His desk light is still on.</p><p>He purrs, soft, didn’t even know his human body could do it so well. So hollow.</p><p>Grimmjow manages a scoff and his teeth pinch the skin over Ichigo’s collarbones harshly enough that the boy under him jolts. It only takes another second for him to forget why he should be annoyed. It’s just a default at this point. If he doesn’t know what to say, he snips, snarks, and insults. Divertive. </p><p>He’s not horny for shoulders or backs. Sexual attraction for hollow’s doesn’t work that way. He doesn’t look at Ichigo and see lithe, battle hardened muscle. He doesn’t see how hands flex and abdominals slide and orange hair flutters. Human attraction means nothing to him. </p><p>That doesn’t mean he can’t appreciate the way Ichigo wears his marks so blatantly, it’s his choice, and Grimmjow is inherently a greedy, hungry thing. So possessive he’d rather hold Ichigo captive in his soul than ever let him love another. He is a hollow. </p><p>He is attracted to power and pride. </p><p>Though he doesn’t lack the ability to appreciate Ichigo’s beauty as an aesthetic feature, Ichigo’s appearance will never be the thing that forced Grimmjow into his orbit. It is not the thing that keeps him here. It’s not the thing that makes his teeth itch in his gums, and his mouth water. It’s not the thing that fits a grin across his face every time their blades spark off eachother.</p><p>“J’s go to sleep…” He mutters, fingers flexing slightly against Ichigo’s back, petting his ribs in a motion that should have been a threat but really it was just a demand for more contact. He shuffles again, shoving a knee between Ichigo’s thighs and his other hand scoops over Ichigo’s head in an almost hug - or an almost ‘I can snap your neck’ gesture. “Moron.” </p><p>Ichigo hums in warning, scowling tiredly at the nip; but doesn’t push further. He’s too sleepy now, to be bothered with it; in the morning he’ll probably try to aggravate Grimmjow further, just because it feels like a return to normalcy. Instead, he lets himself relax down into the bed, into Grimmjow, and it doesn’t take long at all for his purr to taper off into sleep.</p><p>Grimmjow drifts out of sleep in a way he can’t ever remember doing before. He’s warm and there's a beam of sunlight heating his shoulders and upper back. His eyes are untouched, hidden as they are against the curve of a neck. He floats, slowly and steadily, breathing in tandem with the faint rush of exhales near his ear, and he doesn’t fight when he slips under again for a few more minutes with a quiet chuff and the comfortable kneading of fingers.</p><p>Content and safe are such a rarity, such a gift that he doesn’t even bother shaking himself awake when he drifts up again. The reiatsu that’s settled over him is a soothing blanket of tangible affection. He never wants to wake up again if he can feel this all the time. </p>
<hr/><p>Ichigo should really get up.</p><p>But he is so warm and <em> comfortable </em> like this, enclosed in blankets and Grimmjow’s weight, and although the sun plays on his eyelids it isn’t searingly bright in the way that makes him want to wince and turn, put his face in the pillow to hide. </p><p>Grimmjow kneads at his side, sleepily, and his heart gives a happy little pang at how soft that is, and how relaxed the arrancar has become, curled into him; Ichigo decides he can wait a little longer, just until his stomach complains about the lack of breakfast, until his body wakes up a little more.</p>
<hr/><p>When Grimmjow does wake properly, it’s to a loud crashing sound and hollering from downstairs that sends raw shocked adrenaline through his limbs, until he tries to flip himself upright and out of the bed and only succeeds in flopping facefirst over Ichigo. </p><p>Ichigo swears as Grimmjow sinks startled claws into his side and then wheezes when several kilos of tired cat-man slump over him in some aborted attempt at fleeing over the top of him, and he grabs Grimmjow and shoves him off and onto his side, back onto the mattress. He sits up quickly, kicks free of the blankets and hauls himself into a standing position, a grimace spreading across his face. </p><p>Every one of Grimmjow’s limbs feels heavy, hierro a comforting weight back on his skin, but still too physically weak to resist Ichigo’s manhandling of him. He tries to extract himself from the bed again in the next second, head reeling and Ichigo’s familiar reiatsu in the back of his mouth. He forgets he has hands instead of legs and eats shit for a second time as he extracts himself from the thick cozy nest. Pantera finds her way into his hand and he’s shooting to his feet behind Ichigo, a growl rumbling through him. </p><p>Ichigo glances at him once, then howls, "What did goat-face do <em> this </em> time?!" </p><p>His feet carry him across the cool hardwood flooring, and he shoves his door open, sticking his head out into the hall to hear the answer from either the man himself or one of his sisters. </p><p>“The fuck, Ichigo?” Grimmjow swears, coming up behind the shinigami to glare down the hallway after him, a silver sliver of Pantera is an obvious indicator of his intention to go after whoever startled him awake. “He one of yours?”</p><p>Ichigo groans low in the back of his throat, a mournful, resigned sound. “Yeah, that’s my dad. Unfortunately. He might have actually died, this time, though, that’d be great.”</p><p>A warbling, ugly sound trails up the stairs towards them and Ichigo squints uncomfortably, then reaches back and pats at Grimmjow’s arm. “Wish me luck. I’m going in. If I don’t make it back… remember me fondly.” </p><p>Grimmjow blinks as the words settle in <em> just his father</em>, not a threat, and it isn’t until Ichigo is already nearing the bottom of the stairs that Grimmjow is sprinting after him. He doesn’t really know why. The words don’t slot right in his head, Ichigo’s doesn’t sound like what he remembers fathers to be like. <em> His affection is a dropkick</em>, “he’s gonna hurt you?” </p><p>And all that primal, mostly animal rage rushes back - he’s been lying still too long and his blood is itching for a fight. <em> No. No, Ichigo is </em> <b> <em>mine</em> </b> <em> and no one gets to touch him.</em> <em> Mine, mine, my teeth in his shoulder, my scars on his skin, my scent in his nest.  </em></p><p>Ichigo pauses for a second and turns back a little, looking over his shoulder, blinks. “Yeah, probably, but only if I’m slow. I’m pretty awake, and he’s sounding extra mournful, so he might just try to aggressively hug me. I give you full permission to dropkick him, if you want.” </p><p>Ichigo offers a small smile and keeps going, rounding the corner at the bottom of the stairs; and almost immediately he has to duck as Isshin goes flying over his head, arms outstretched and comically large tears pouring down his face. Over in the kitchen, he hears Yuzu huff unhappily, low and resigned, used to this sort of daily drama. </p><p>Grimmjow slams Panteras hilt into the man’s face with a snarl so hard that he’s sent crashing across the other side of the room, and is already sliding around in front of Ichigo to corral him back against the wall while he assesses the other potential threats in the room. Other than the man, Ichigo’s father, who’s reiatsu far surpasses that of the average shinigami, the other two don’t even register as snacks to Grimmjow. Spiritually aware, yes. Threats? </p><p>Grimmjow snorts and straightens, the arm barred in front of Ichigo’s chest dropping into the pocket of his borrowed sweatpants. A quick glance over his shoulder sweeps across Ichigo to check him for damages, just subtly enough that no one probably notices he cares. The disdainful stare he fixes on the downed shinigami could freeze hell though. So he’s probably giving away the game there. </p><p>His gaze remains steady for a long moment before he turns his attention to finding the small mousy one, “she’s the one that made the food?”</p><p>Ichigo hesitantly presses a hand against Grimmjow’s shoulder blade, eyes a little wide, and he stares at the pile of parental unit slumped against the wall. Yuzu stares between Ichigo and Isshin, and then squints at the floating sweatpants in front of her brother.<br/>
<br/>
“Uh. Yuzu, meet Grimmjow. Grimmjow, I think you’ve compounded my father’s brain damage. Yes, she’s the one who made the food. She uh. Can’t actually see you properly, so… Guess it’s good you’re wearing my clothes?” He squints a bit as Isshin twitches. </p><p>“Non-lethal force met with non-lethal force,” Grimmjow flashes his fangs, proud at how quickly he’d figured out the rules of engagement, and simultaneously draws Pantera halfway and lifts a clothed leg to shake it, testing if mousy tracks the actual danger or the leg to confirm Ichigo’s claim of her blindness.</p><p>An old trick. Snap the tail, forget the claws. Di Roy <em> always </em>forgot the claws. </p><p>She tracks the leg.</p><p>He drops Pantera and lifts his index finger to his teeth, ripping through his hierro until his finger is nice and bloody. He writes ‘yo’ on the wall. He doesn’t know if she can read it at all (or even if he got the katakana right) but it doubles as a scent marking so he doesn’t really care either way. The other one <em> definitely </em> sees it, but she doesn’t seem particularly worried about some arrancar bleeding all over her walls, so he decides she’s tolerable. </p><p>“Get her to feed me again. I’m <em> starving.</em>” </p><p>“Ichigo, your ghost boyfriend just bled on the <em> wall.</em>” Karin hisses, but her face doesn’t shift from her normal frown, (she takes after him. It’s so cute. He will never say it out loud,) so she’s obviously more pissed about who’s going to have to clean it, rather than the blood itself.</p><p>“Yes, he has terrible house manners. Yuzu, light of my life, favourite little sister-” Karin scowls harder at him, “- will you please make something just. Really really meaty. Lot’s of meat, no vegetables, little rice. For the floating pair of pants that just wrote ‘yo’ on the wall in blood.”</p><p>Yuzu stares, and then her soft face twists in something close to anger. She raises a spatula threateningly, and points it surprisingly close to the actual direction of Grimmjow’s face. Ichigo is almost impressed, even as he slips out from behind the arrancar and pads over to poke his father with his foot; maybe check his pulse.</p><p>“Grimmjow-san! If you want to be fed, you’d better clean up after yourself! You can’t just put blood all over the wall! We have pencils and paper!” She brandishes the spatula, and Ichigo thinks it’s honestly more threatening than brandishing Zangetsu.</p><p>Grimmjow stares, unimpressed, (okay, he’s a little impressed, it takes balls to try to threaten someone when they’re so far out of your league you can't even perceive them), down his nose at the spatula before a hand lashes out to snatch it. “No”.</p><p>He pats her on the nose with it and tosses it in the vague direction of the sink before patting around her on silent feet towards the kitchen proper. He carves a mark into the wooden table on his way past as a ‘fuck you, you don’t control me’, but doesn’t add anymore blood. </p><p>Meat is in the fridge, he thinks, and yanks open the unfamiliar metal cold box before leading himself with his nose to the best smelling cut of meat he can find - he’s not spoiled for choice - and ripping through the plastic wrapping and styrofoam with his claws before plodding, much more audibly, back to Ichigo. He’s already shoved several strips of the meat between his teeth before he offers it to Ichigo. </p><p>“You want some?” Ichigo's been working hard to keep Grimmjow satiated and safe while he slept, he deserves a reward. Grimmjow will start with the meat, but the first hollow he finds sniffing around Karakura is gonna be gift wrapped in turn. </p><p>Ichigo makes a face and shakes his head before hauling his father up with a grip under each arm. He’s breathing at least, but his nose is bloody, and Karin scrambles off the couch as Ichigo dumps the man across it. “No, thanks. And you better be nice to my sisters.” He pins Grimmjow with a glare. Yuzu stares blankly at the floating meat as it passes her by, then moves over and closes the fridge.</p><p>“Ichi-nii… Your boyfriend is a dick.” She pouts at him, and Ichigo freezes in place, utterly paralysed as her eyes water a little. Ah, fuck.</p><p>“He really likes your cooking, though, Yuzu, I swear. He’s just like that, don’t take it personally?” He can feel sweat beading at the back of his neck. Next to him, on the couch, Isshin curls up despite being firmly in the realm of unconsciousness. Not even being knocked out can spare you from the effect of Yuzu’s puppy eyes. Karin doesn’t seem to have any sympathy for him as she edges around Grimmjow and back up the stairs. He swears she <em> snickers. </em> The brat.</p><p>Grimmjow ignores mousy’s comment. He is a dick, doesn’t even have to try. It’s a special skill.  Coincidentally enough, he also <em> has </em> a dick, and if Ichigo won’t accept his kinda shitty meat strips, Grimmjow’s sure he can find other ways to reward him. Or he’s been told his tongue does wonders. </p><p>“I <em> am </em> being nice,” he insists instead around a mouthful. “I’ve hurt none of ‘em.” And by that he means sisters. He very much did hurt the father.  </p><p>Ichigo scoffs, and nearly sighs out loud with relief when Yuzu turns away, seemingly satisfied with his visible repentance. He pokes Isshin one more time, then shakes his head a little. “What was goat-face even <em> doing, </em> ‘Zu?”</p><p>She huffs, picks up the spatula from where it landed on the counter and puts it in the sink. “He was wailing to mum’s poster about how you got a boyfriend, and Karin told him she was also gay, and then he had a little crying fit. The crash was Karin kicking him in the face when he tried to hug her and tell her he accepted her.”</p><p>Ichigo feels his eye twitch, and he isn’t even marginally surprised, really. He wishes he could be. One day he’s going to tear down that poster and just, put it in the trash or something. Wait, no. He’ll have to burn it, he wouldn’t put it past Isshin to root through garbage for it. He scratches absently at his shoulder, blinks a little when the fabric of his shirt doesn’t drag against scars. </p><p>His gaze drifts sideways back to Grimmjow, who’s most of the way through the raw stir-fry strips of beef he’s munching on, and he smiles a little to himself. Fucking weirdo. He stretches and winces when his back audibly pops, and then heads to the stairs as well. “I need a shower, I’ll be back down to eat afterwards.”</p><p>Yuzu perks up, beaming. “Okay! I’ll make sure to have food ready! You’ll make Karin come down too, right? And I’ll make sure to make a plate for Grimmjow-san.” She eyes the drying ‘yo’ on the wall. Ichigo huffs a laugh. “Sounds good. And I’ll clean up the blood in a bit, don’t worry about it.”</p><p>Actually, how can she even see it? It’s spiritual blood, right? Does it just become visible when it leaves his body? Wild. Whatever. He takes the stairs two at a time and steps back into his room, Grimmjow tailing him and sucking blood from his fingers, sliding his closet open to gather some clean clothes to change into.</p><p>Grimmjow reclaims his spot on the bed when they make it back to Ichigo’s room, reshuffling sheets and blankets, and <em> hey </em> his towel is still here. He feels weirdly attached to it. He watches as Ichigo proceeds to strip out of his clothes in preparation of his shower. </p><p>Some part of the facade cracks. Something churns in Grimmjow's gut and he glances out the window instead of watching Ichigo. It feels wrong. That after <em> months </em> of hardening himself, training himself to demolish this whole town and kill Kurosaki alongside it, he’s perched quietly on Ichigo’s bed chewing on meat strips out of a little plastic box. Like he’s been <em> forgiven.</em> Has he been forgiven? </p><p>“Are you upset?” Grimmjow asks. </p><p>Ichigo pauses, shirt over his head and bunches along his arms, and his motions slow as he finishes pulling it off, brow furrowed. Is he upset? It's a good question, really. He's been avoiding cataloguing his feelings for a while, now. Avoiding <em> processing </em>the recent series of events that has led him here. </p><p>He looks down at his hand, flexes it slightly, raises it to rub at the edge of his binder where the collar meets the skin of his shoulder. Unmarred. He has to keep <em> reminding </em>himself there are no bite scars there, no jagged line from Benihime linking and blurring them. His other hand drops the shirt into his hamper and he scoops a clean one from his closet. He absently rolls it between his fingers, the slightly coarse fabric grounding him. </p><p>"No, I'm not upset." He decides, nodding to himself. The words sound right. </p><p>"Are you?" He asks, snagging a pair of loose shorts as well, and then clean underwear, piling them up in the crook of his other arm. He glances over his shoulder at the bed where Grimmjow sits. </p><p>Grimmjow hums a noncommittal sound, blue eyes leveled unerringly on him, even as he drinks the remaining dregs from his silly little styrofoam meat box and chucks the whole thing into the bin under Ichigo’s desk. “You should be.” He dodges Ichigo’s question. </p><p>Grimmjow’s not upset. Just. Disjointed. </p><p>A lot has happened in the last…. the hours before he fell asleep. He’s not quite sure how long he was out in reality. But he’s emotionally volatile at the best of times. Like growing pains. Or teething. </p><p>Hollows aren’t supposed to <em> feel,</em> but arrancar, or at least <em> Aizen's </em> arrancar do. Slowly. When he was first born his emotions were the same small collection he had before. Hunger, rage, fear. </p><p>Then his mask broke and suddenly there were feelings he didn’t have the vocabulary to describe. Complex emotions with a myriad of subtleties and hues.</p><p>Grimmjow learned to feel them slowly, one after another. Like adding new colours to his visual range. One day the world was grey, the next the sunsets looked yellow, then orange, then pinks and purple and everything in between. He didn’t have the equipment to process it and it spun him into the ground trying. So he tried to rip it all back out again and look how well that ended for him. Without those emotions he’s just an animal. Some generator of negative emotion and hatred. </p><p>He doesn’t know what he feels right now. </p><p>Relief maybe. That they’re both still alive. </p><p>Regret? Or… guilt? Shame? He doesn’t know what word applies best. He thinks he’d feel better if Ichigo fought with him. </p><p>At least he'd understand that. </p><p>This weird limbo is just making him feel tense and anxious. </p><p>“Why aren’t you upset?”</p><p>Ichigo grimaces a little, eyes flicking after the empty tray, and he makes a mental note to empty out his desk bin after his shower, otherwise he'll have raw meat stink in his room. He smooths his expression back out again, meeting blue eyes evenly. </p><p>"Well. Being upset doesn't really do anything for me. It's not gonna help, and- I don't know. It's stupid, I guess. Things are sort of working, now, even if it was a pain and a half to get here. I- I'm just glad you stuck around, y'know? Not just now, but. At all. I like being able to talk and fight with you. All in all, you're a positive in my life."</p><p>Christ, he feels sappier saying that than admitting he loved the other man. His mouth twists into a sort of smile, self deprecating, and he shakes his head a little, clears his thoughts.</p><p>"I'll be right back. I think I still have sand embedded in my skin." He's only half joking as he turns to exit the room. </p><p>Well that’s… <em> sad. </em> Grimmjow thinks. It’s sad that out of all the people in Ichigo’s life who care for and adore him, he feels best around Grimmjow. Even after he minced him over some <em> stupid </em>mistranslation. </p><p>Ichigo’s words reach down Grimmjow's throat and grab hold of his hole from the inside, and twist something fierce. </p><p><em> Aren’t we a pathetic sight, </em> he almost says. But that sounds wrong. Not like something he’d say normally, so he swallows it down and searches for something else. It dawns on him slowly that he should… he doesn’t know… apologise? But how do you even apologise for something like this?</p><p>‘Sorry murdered you and tried to eat you and also tried to murder your town so you died feeling overwhelming rage, dispair, and hatred.’ </p><p>Definitely not. </p><p>Grimmjow stays quiet when Ichigo disappears out the door and then he shoves the window open to crawl out. He feels too trapped in the human house. In Ichigo’s bedroom. He doesn’t belong here. </p><p>"You!!! Blue espada! Stop right there, fiend!" Kon's squeaky voice echoes down the hallway, and Ichigo pauses in front of the bathroom. He considers his options, then decides that if Grimmjow turns Kon into a fine dust, that's the mod soul's own fault and Ichigo doesn't have to feel guilty at all for choosing the sweet sensation of hot water on his skin over wrangling a plush lion. </p><p>He steps inside, turns the shower on, and locks the door. </p><p>Kon points, rather aggressively, if he does say so himself, at the large and intimidating form of Grimmjow half out of Ichigo's bedroom window. He assumes it's because he commands attention and respect that Grimmjow pauses, (he knows its confusion and surprise. His height can be measured in <em> inches </em>he's not that stupid.)</p><p>"What are your plans with Ichigo-kun, fiend!! Are you gonna run off and break his heart again?!" He gasps, soft paws flying to his button nose in horror. "Did you get him <em> pregnant</em>?! Don't abandon your child, shitty espada!!" </p><p>“The fuck?” Grimmjow balks, ducking back inside the windowframe to stare at the talking doll in bewilderment. </p><p>“The hell are you?” He ignores everything it just said in favour of grabbing for it. </p><p>Kon yells and ducks the large hand, scrabbling across the hardwood floor out of the way, and hopefully out of reach of the bed. </p><p>"Bastard! Answer my questions! I'm too young to be an uncle!" Fear slips into his voice, but not because of Grimmjow. Definitely not. He's not <em> scared </em>of the arrancar. No way. </p><p>"I'm Kon! The hell are <em> you, </em> interloper! <em> Abandoner</em>!" He slaps a paw against his plush chest. It squeaks slightly, ruins the effect a little. </p><p>"Take responsibility for knocking Ichigo up!" </p><p>Grimmjow cocks a brow, trying to decide if he should obliterate the thing or if that would get him even <em> more </em>in the shit, and intimately decides that it’s Ichigo’s… Kon… and he probably shouldn’t kill it. </p><p>“I didn’t fuck Kurosaki,” He says flatly, unfolding off the bed like a predator about to pounce on it’s unfortunate prey. Kon being the mouse in this scenario. “Just slightly mangled him. He got better.”</p><p>Kon groans loudly, tilting his head back in horrified realisation. </p><p>"Oh, ye gods, that's worse! Now he's gonna have even <em> more </em>nightmares! Getting kicked off the bed when he thrashes is getting old, you know! There's only so much abuse I can take!" He devolves into muttering, pressing his paw up to his chin thoughtfully. </p><p>"Nee-san would never treat me like this… Ichigo won't even let me sleep between his boobs… The lack of respect in this house… I have an important role! No one appreciates me!" </p><p>He remembers himself and waves his other paw up at the arrancar again, horrified.</p><p>"Beating each other up is basically a proposal in this hellish family! You fool! You idiot!" </p><p>Grimmjow lunges. Hands extended to snatch up the tiny little lion, he’s not sure if he needs to treat it gently but decides probably not considering he knocked out older Kurosaki to no one's mind earlier. </p><p>Kon shrieks and tries to backpeddle. He does not get very far. </p><p>Grimmjow hauls the little lion up near his face and shakes it. “Shut up.” He glares, “I ain’t an interloper. He <em> brought </em> me here.” He explains very slowly and clearly before realising the absurdity of the situation - he’s talking to a <em> stuffed lion </em> - and deciding the Kon doesn’t get to know a damn thing about what’s happening between him and Kurosaki. </p><p>“You wanna play guard dog so bad, tell him I’m on the roof.” Grimmjow orders before pitching him towards the dirty clothes hamper. The doll smells bad. And he’s not <em> leaving, </em> he just needs… space? A place to stop and breath and figure out what the fuck is going on? He’s not sure but he sure as hell isn't going to find it in here. With a stuffed animal.</p><p>Kon wails as his little body arcs through the air, and then he's sputtering and gasping in a pile of- sandy? Clothes. Smells like blood and sand. <em> Yuck! </em>He crawls his way back up to the edge of the hamper and proceeds to topple over it, landing face first on the floor with another squeak. </p><p>By the time he forces his head back up, the arrancar is gone. To the roof, he said. Kon briefly considers throwing a tantrum right there on the floor, then decides that's probably a little unbecoming, and picks himself up, dusting his fabric off. </p><p>Ichigo pads back into his room with his towel in his hands, absently scrubbing through his wet hair, and finds Kon sitting petulantly on his bed. </p><p>"What the fuck," Ichigo manages. </p><p>Kon pins him with his beady little glass eyes and shoves one paw upwards. It takes him a moment to realise the mod soul means Grimmjow is on the roof, (a longer moment than he'd like to admit,) and then Kon is stomping out of the room in a huff. </p><p>“Strangle me Ichigo! He tried to <em> strangle me! </em> You really want that thing sticking his dick anywhere near you?” He wails dramatically over his shoulder as he flees. His plush feet actually make little squeaking noises on the floor, and Ichigo stifles a snort of amusement. </p><p>Ichigo rolls his eyes at the plush's tirade- he didn't even get his little body to the <em> doorway </em>before starting up. Grimmjow obviously wounded his pride. Ichigo decides he wants to know if Kon can gag so hard he expels his pill on accident. </p><p>"Wish he'd strangle <em> me.</em>" He hums nonchalantly, dropping his gathered clothes into the hamper and then the towel right after them. He is gifted with a howl of disgust from the mod soul, and he slaps a hand over his smile to suppress the cackle that wants to leave him. </p><p>Grimmjow does choke. Just a little in a wheezy sort of totally caught off guard kind of way. </p><p>A moment passes and then Ichigo pokes his head up over the roof, his human body tucked neatly into bed to keep it warm despite the chill from the open window. His cheeks feel searing hot, and the swords at his back and hip over his shinigami uniform aren't helping with the dull amusement radiating across his inner world. </p><p>"Uh. Sorry you had to hear that. Also sorry about Kon; he keeps my body safe sometimes." </p><p>The tiles aren’t the most comfortable thing Grimmjow’s ever laid down on, but the freedom is nice. The breeze on his skin. He coughs again, a bit nonplussed he gave his position away so easily - like he hadn’t told the lion straight up. He hadn’t wanted to freak Ichigo out. Make him think he ran again. </p><p>He does want to, sort of, it won’t fix the problem but he doesn’t know what will. Maybe it’s better if he just… goes. Again. He should probably go talk to Yoruichi and Kisuke too. They’ll be mad that he nearly killed their Ichigo. If he were a better person he’d try to make it up to them.</p><p>Grimmjow gives Ichigo an unimpressed look, “Why’re ya sorry? I don’t care.” He does. He’s beginning to figure out that maybe he cares way too much. Not about Kon, but about how <em> easily </em>Ichigo trusts him, wants to trust him. Grimmjow’s not human enough for that. </p><p>Ichigo steps up onto a reishi platform and then onto the roof tiles. "You good?" </p><p>He turns his face to the sky, letting Ichigo settle near him. He could do his usual thing. Snap his teeth, growl a threat, try to shove Ichigo off the roof and laugh when he rolls head over heels. The thought still brings a small kind of mean smile to his face. But maybe they’re a bit beyond that now. Hard to say. Grimmjow still sort of wants to rip him apart. He also sort of wants Ichigo to kiss him again. </p><p>“No.” He says after a long moment of rolling the words around in his mind. He should say more, but he’s only got space in his mouth for one honest word. He wonders if they can go back to how it was after the Quincy. With Grimmjow trying to kill him, but with about half the amount of malice and Ichigo sort of considering him an almost friend. </p><p>That was sustainable if nothing else. </p><p>Or maybe not so sustainable considering it died under heavy cero fire. </p><p>Ichigo hums slightly, has to rest on his knees; the length of the blade on his back won't let him sit comfortably without removing it, and he's feeling too lazy to bother. </p><p>"Alright," he offers into the quiet air between them, "-Yuzu is probably about done making food. You still want some?" </p><p>He doesn't know what to do about the odd tension between them. It's been there since they woke up in the same bed, after Ichigo had hauled Grimmjow off to Orihime to be healed, practically wound around each other. He wonders if maybe he's hurt Grimmjow's pride, then decides Grimmjow would have tried to beat him up by now if that was the case. It seems more like something the arrancar is trying to work through on his own, and god only knows Ichigo has no right to intercede in that. </p><p>Grimmjow grunts in acknowledgment, dinner would be… nice… he thinks, and he twists to get up and finds himself tangling fingers in the sleeve of Ichigo’s shihakusho instead. </p><p>Ichigo watches him and he watches his hand. </p><p>It’s a challenge to keep his voice steady when he speaks. “What if I can’t do it?”</p><p>He. They. Ah. Grimmjow knows what problem is. He’s <em> scared.  </em></p><p>He forces himself to look Ichigo square in the eye. “What if I can’t actually love.”</p><p>Ichigo pauses at the grip on his sleeve, examines the lines of Grimmjow's face. </p><p>"Some humans don't feel love. Not romantic, anyway. It doesn't make you- less. And I'd still be here." He smiles a little, soft and reassuring, moves a single step closer so Grimmjow's arm isn't pulled taut keeping a hold of him. </p><p>"I don't mind, Grimmjow. I'm - happy with whatever you'll give me. Platonic or otherwise. Wait, that sounds pathetic. I just mean-" He flounders for a moment, cheeks warm, then huffs. "I just like having you around. You make me happy, you know? I want to make you happy too. Doesn't matter to me."</p><p>“And what if I try eat you again? What then? Cuz that’s all hollow love is. That’s <em> as good as it gets. </em> What if I can’t <em> be better.” </em>He feels like he’s just flayed himself open for Ichigo to pick through his organs for the tastiest parts. Feels like it’s also the only way to keep going forward though. </p><p>He stares Ichigo down, teeth bared to smother the downturn of his lips. </p><p>Ichigo blinks at him, slow, assessing. Looks right <em> at </em>Grimmjow like he’s not seeing anything new. And he’s looking at the exact same face he always has been. There's no sudden realization for him. It’s simple honestly, open observation.</p><p>"You can. You <em> are </em> better." Ichigo says it with genuine unwavering conviction in his voice. It's <em> fact </em> to him. "You think I'd let you around my sisters if I didn't believe you were better, more evolved than just <em> hollow?</em>" </p><p>Grimmjow shakes his head a little, abruptly, “I think you’re being <b>stupid!</b> Or maybe you're just too fucking strong for it to even matter, I don’t know but you <em> act </em> like you trust me and you <em> shouldn’t.”  </em></p><p>"You wouldn't be <em> so scared </em>if you didn't feel, Grimmjow," Ichigo retorts easily. </p><p>“Fear isn’t the part of me I’m missing! I’ve felt fear my whole <b>fucking</b> life! Why don’t you <em> get it </em> you have a fucking hole too, what if mine's there because I can’t love. I—-“ Grimmjow blinks suddenly, jerking away and turning his shoulder and mask to Ichigo. His eyes are wet. They're fucking— “I <em> want </em>to… to love you too and I don’t… I don’t know how. Ichigo…”</p><p>Ichigo leans up and presses his lips to Grimmjow's temple on instinct, winds one hand around the back of the arrancar's skull and tangles his fingers in blue strands. "Grimmjow… I don't lose feelings when I pull on my mask. I just- feel <em> deeper. </em> I feel <em> more. </em>I'm sorry."</p><p>Ichigo sighs, low, and wonders how the hell he can possibly convince the other man that he's more than violence. Sure he's <em> soaked </em> in it, in blood and the hunt. But Grimmjow's not rabid. Unfeeling. There's no possible way you can feel one extreme without the other end of the spectrum- there can be no hate without love. And Grimmjow can <em> hate.  </em></p><p>Deeply. </p><p>Completely. </p><p>Grimmjow leans back into him, bows his head and presses his face into Ichigo’s shoulder, the hand still holding on to Ichigo’s sleeve shifting to wrap around his waist instead. </p><p>“I’ll fuck up.” Animal fanged teeth mutter into black cloth, a simple statement of fact. He’ll fuck up again. He’ll get it wrong. He’ll react with anger and fear. Sometimes it’ll be bloody. <em> But I want to get this right.  </em></p><p>"I know." Ichigo hums softly, doesn't move away. He cards his fingers through Grimmjow's hair, lifts his now freed other hand to rest over one of the man's shoulders. "It's alright. We all fuck up."</p><p>He stays there, patient. He doesn't want to move away unless Grimmjow does first. There's an odd peace to the way he's - not hiding, but definitely searching out affirmation. It's <em> soft.</em></p><p>It’s a slow moment. Ichigo doesn’t attack him. He could easily go for the throat here. Snap his neck in one easy move and Grimmjow would never see it coming. He doesn’t. Doesn’t mock him either. Doesn’t laugh at how emotional and pathetic he’s being. “Okay.” Grimmjow breathes, pulling his face out of hiding. </p><p>He finds Ichigo’s gaze and. Oh he’s… “Can I kiss you?” Grimmjow asks. Grimmjow doesn’t ask for anything, but he asks for this. (He wants to take it back immediately. Wants not to have opened himself to the possibility of Ichigo saying ‘no’ to saying ‘kiss a hollow?’ with that derisive contempt all shinigami seem to reserve for his kind. Isn’t that how this whole mess started to begin with? Fuck he’s so goddamned hopeful.)</p><p>Ichigo's eyes go wide for a second, and then he blushes despite himself, averting his gaze a little bit. </p><p>"You don't have to ask that… You can just kiss me, if that's what you want." He doesn't think his heart will be able to take it if Grimmjow starts making a habit of asking for permission for kisses. No, his heart <em> definitely </em>can't take it. </p><p>Grimmjow's hands are careful when he cups Ichigo’s face, the tips of his fingers just barely brushing orange hair, grip loose enough that Ichigo can jerk away if he wants. A thumb brushes against Ichigo’s lips, his gaze transfixed by the way he nearly glows under the dying orange of the sunset painted sky and dances across the splatter of barely there freckles on his cheekbones and nose. Grimmjow's voice is barely above a whisper. “I do.”</p><p>He’s. Fuck. He’s. He’s terrified. </p><p>Ichigo is beautiful. So so so beautiful. And so strong. And so <em> kind.  </em></p><p>Even to someone like Grimmjow. </p><p>Even to someone like Grimmjow who can’t fucking remember how to kiss. </p><p>He tries anyway. </p><p>He’s not tentative, never has been, even when he’s scared out of his mind. He’s maybe a little too over eager. His fangs catch the thin skin of Ichigo’s lower lip and presses it a little sharply into Ichigo’s teeth, their noses bump together, he’s not quite sure if he’s allowed to use his tongue, Ichigo hadn’t the first time they kissed, but he wants to. Wants to put his tongue between Ichigo’s teeth and <em> know </em>that Ichigo isn’t going to take a bite, that maybe Ichigo would be willing to do the same. Grimmjow can’t figure out how to angle his head to deal with both his nose and his mask, he might have pinched Ichigo's skin. His breath smells like raw meat and Ichigo tastes like the acidic citrus from whatever fruit he’s been eating earlier. He nearly slips on the tiles when his knees go a bit weak. </p><p>It’s a horrible kiss. </p><p>And Grimmjow wants to do it again and again and again. </p><p>Again and again until he gets it right. </p><p>And then he wants to keep doing it just for the hell of it. </p><p>Ichigo sort of feels like he's made of liquid gold when Grimmjow <em> looks </em>at him like that. (Like he's something infinitely precious.) His insides twist into a sort of pleasant knot in the centre of his being, and then he's making an odd strangled noise into the honestly pretty awful kiss Grimmjow presses on him. </p><p>He loves it, obviously, (even though Grimmjow tastes like raw meat) but he tilts his head slightly to break it anyway. </p><p>And when Grimmjow makes a petulant noise at the loss of contact, Ichigo just laughs, “You fucked up. It’s all right. Let’s try again,” and pulls him back in. </p><p>He's gentle about it, slides his fingers along the line of Grimmjow's exposed jaw and tilts the other man's chin slightly, and this time they slot together much more evenly, no awkward and uncomfortable press. He drags the tip of his tongue along the seam of Grimmjow's lips, soft and careful, hums quietly. He feels ridiculously possessive of the arrancar, right now. </p><p>Grimmjow tries to go slower this time. He wants to melt into Ichigo’s warmth. It’s stupid really, how effortlessly Ichigo can make him feel better, safer, with nothing but a few words and hands in his hair. </p><p>One of his own hands slides from Ichigo’s cheek to the back of his head, fingers carding through hair for a moment before mimicking the hold. </p><p>"Good," Ichigo murmurs, and then gently digs his blunt teeth into Grimmjow's lower lip, let's go only to soothe the divots he left with another chaste kiss. </p><p>Grimmjow honestly feels a little lightheaded when Ichigo pulls away. The sheer <em> relief </em>is dizzying. Ichigo didn’t push him away. Oh fuck. He’s so ruined. Totally and completely. He’s… </p><p>Not going to think about it too hard. </p><p>He just wants to enjoy this. </p><p>“I’m gonna kiss you again now.” Grimmjow doesn’t ask this time, because Ichigo told him not to - It’s true, He’s not the type to ask, but he’s not asking anyone he’s asking <em> Ichigo </em> - he waits half a beat before leaning back in, pressing his lips to Ichigo’s and tugging on the handful of hair he’s holding so he can adjust their angle himself. </p><p>It’s not as good as when Ichigo did it, their noses still bump for a moment, but it’s good enough. He presses their foreheads together when it’s over. Closes his eyes and tips his head a little to the side and just --- breathes. Like the sun will rise tomorrow and it’ll be okay. Not fixed, but getting better. One injury at a time. Or something. Fuck. <em> Ruined! </em></p><p>Completely and utterly and-- </p><p>“Ichigo, you are the <em> worst,</em>” Grimmjow complains, pulling back, cheeks and the tips of his ears a little pink, “You’re making me think mushy shit!”</p><p>Ichigo beams at him, and his cheeks still feel overly warm. He leans forward and presses a quick kiss to the edge of Grimmjow's mouth, just because he <em> can,</em> then rocks back on his heels a little. "I'm not gonna apologise." His smile turns from sweet to slightly smug, and he leans into the arrancar's fingers in his hair. </p><p>It’s going to be okay. Ichigo thinks. </p><p>Grimmjow seems to think. Ichigo wants to giggle, elated, his arrancar is smiling so wide, silly bastard probably doesn’t even realize. </p><p>Fuck, Ichigo really does love him. What a dangerous thing. What a dangerous and wonderful thing indeed. </p><p>Ichigo beams back, presses another kiss to Grimmjow’s lips, a second to the tip of his nose. “I’m not gonna run if you fuck up you know. Going to stay right here in front of you.” Ichigo promises, his voice and gaze unwavering. </p><p>And Grimmjow. Grimmjow laughs, the <em> first </em> truly joyful and exhilarated laugh Ichigo’s ever heard from him. No sharp, malice filled edge, Just bousterous and happy and beautiful.</p><p>“You’re in front of me, huh, Ichigo?” Grimmjow leans into his embrace, fingers toying with strands of orange hair, tracing the shell of his ear. He knocks their foreheads together and there’s a promise in his eyes too. “You’re in front of me, always in my sight.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
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